Slept So Long
by Brumeier
Summary: AU. Blair is an anthropologist with an obsession and Jim is a vampire with a secret. And this is what happens when their two worlds collide. WARNING: There will be slash, violence, and fang flashing.
1. Chapter 1

_**Standard Disclaimer: **I own no rights to the Sentinel characters, unless someone has a big, big surprise for me. I likewise stake (get it? LOL!) no claim on any vampy bits that may have been borrowed from other sources. This is strictly for my own personal amusement, and hopefully yours._

**Slept So Long**, by Jonathan Davis

_Walking, waiting  
Alone without a care  
Hoping, and hating  
Things that I can't bear_

_Did you think it's cool to walk right up_  
_To take my life and fuck it up_  
_Well did you_  
_Well did you_

_I see hell in your eyes_  
_Taken in by surprise_  
_Touching you makes me feel alive_  
_Touching you makes me die inside_

_Walking, waiting_  
_Alone without a care_  
_Hoping, and hating_  
_Things that I can't bear_

_Did you think its cool to walk right up_  
_To take my life and fuck it up_  
_Well did you_  
_I hate you_

_I see hell in your eyes_  
_Taken in by surprise_  
_Touching you makes me feel alive_  
_Touching you makes me die inside_

_I've slept so long without you_  
_It's tearing me apart, too_  
_How to get this far_  
_Playing games with this old heart_

_I've killed a million petty souls_  
_But I couldn't kill you_  
_I've slept so long without you_

_I see Hell in your eyes_  
_Taken in by surprise_  
_Touching you makes me feel alive_  
_Touching you makes me die inside_

_I see Hell in your eyes_  
_Taken in by surprise_  
_Touching you makes me feel alive_  
_Touching you makes me die inside_

* * *

It was half past midnight and Club Doom was packed to capacity. It was Friday night – well, Saturday morning now – and the busiest night as people strove to shed the shackles of the work week. The booze was flowing, the speakers were pumping out bass-heavy techno songs, and most of the mortals were looking to get lucky, either with their own kind or maybe one of the vamps moving sinuously on the dance floor; just enough of them scored so that more would come back, and bring their friends. Separating mortals from their money was a fairly easy business, particularly when they got a thrill from walking on the wild side. And they always got a thrill, because just enough fang was flashed under the strobe lights to keep things interesting.

Jim Ellison watched it all with lazy detachment through the one-way glass in his office. It was the same, night after night, and he did his best to keep it that way. Mortals came to Club Doom because it was just edgy enough without being outright dangerous, like similar clubs in Seattle and Portland. It was his job to keep everything running smoothly, and not just because he was the owner.

"He's back again," Jim said, his gaze turned toward the bar. A burly man stood there, putting his hands on whatever female ass was nearby. The vamps on payroll were under a strict hands-off policy, but one of the mortal women slapped him across the face.

"Third strike. Take him out, make sure David knows he's banned."

Jim received a sharp nod and a predatory grin from Sharyn McKay, his head of security and closest ally. She'd been spoiling for a fight lately and this would let her blow off some steam. He watched her through the glass, smirking. It was impossible not to notice her, even in the dim lighting. Black, spiky hair and a black leather catsuit made her normally pale skin seem to glow by contrast. The thin platinum hoop in her lip glinted off the overhead lights as she sidled up to the handsy drunk.

"Time to go, plasma bag," she purred. As soon as the guy raised his hand to touch her, she grabbed him and instantly had him on his knees; Sharyn knew every pressure point on the human body and had no compunctions about using them.

She was drawing attention, Jim noted, and knew it was the right kind. It showed that the club took care of its patrons, at least those that behaved themselves. _You're safe here_, was the message conveyed. When Sharyn hauled the guy to his feet and dragged him out the front door, there was applause. Jim knew she was hoping he'd come at her once she got him out, and didn't much care what happened as long as she didn't kill him and it happened outside the club. She'd been working hard and deserved some fun.

Jim turned to the two computer monitors sitting side-by-side on the corner of his desk. Images from the private rooms were monitored here, for his eyes only. These rooms were available for feedings or sex, though the two were almost always enjoyed concurrently when vamps were involved. A male vamp had to feed before he could get it up, though there was pleasure to be had either way. Jim kept an eye on proceedings to make sure nothing got out of hand, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get a vicarious thrill out of it from time to time.

"Hey, Boss." Kyle poked his shaggy blonde head through the office door. "Couple out-of-towners, here to check in."

Jim had sensed them an hour ago, a low-level hum of power riding along the skin on his arms. They had taken their time, scoping out the club and talking to some of the vamp employees. He was willing to let that slide, though if it had been much longer there would have been a penalty to be paid. There were rules of etiquette, even amongst the undead.

"Send them back." Jim swiveled in his chair and leaned back, arms behind his head. It was always best to start casual, that seemed to put people and vamps alike at ease. So did his office, decorated in layers of gray with splashes of indigo and electric blue here and there; he didn't play up the reds like many of the others did. The seating was a mix of comfort and style, all curves and soft lines. He preferred casual even in his choice of clothing – tonight, tight black jeans and a loose silk shirt in a shade of cobalt blue that set off the blue of his eyes. The only jewelry he wore was a thin leather cord around his neck, from which hung a tiny black vial.

The office door opened again, and Sharyn preceded the male and female that had come to seek him out, taking her place at Jim's side. The relationship between the newcomers was apparent at first glance, more so when the woman stepped up to Jim's desk and bowed her head respectfully while the man knelt behind her, forehead nearly touching the floor.

"Master of the City of Cascade, we come seeking residence in your territory. Respectfully and without design." The woman kept her head down, face obscured by a mass of red curls.

"Who are you, and where have you traveled from?"

"I am Cassandra Wells. I have come here from Los Angeles."

"And your puppy?"

"He is nothing of consequence."

Jim nodded his understanding. The man was well-built, well-dressed, and wearing a thick gold collar that marked him as property. As such, he was below any further scrutiny.

"Why do you seek out my territory?" Jim asked, resting his elbows on the desk. He already knew the answer. "You may look at me."

Cassandra raised her head. She had hazel eyes and high cheek bones, not beautiful but attractive.

"There is a void of power in Los Angeles, and it is dangerous for our kind there. It is said that the Master of Cascade is benevolent, and keeps the city safe for us."

Jim nodded. He'd heard things in LA were pretty dicey right now. The old Master had been assassinated and there were several vamps now fighting for the position. It was a matter for the Council, but they were being typically slow to respond. It would be bad if the conflict continued much longer; mortals held a dim view of vampire politics, particularly when it put them at risk. Regent Cade needed to step in during the interim, before complete chaos set in.

"What will you be doing in my city, should I grant you acceptance?"

"In Los Angeles I worked with the police department as a forensics specialist. I would offer my skills here as well."

Jim studied her, considering. The newly formed Vampire Crimes Unit could use the help. There weren't many vamps trained in forensics, so it was a useful skill.

"I will grant you a trial stay, no more than three months. If you adhere to my rules, I will let you remain as long as you like. In the meantime, I'll contact Police Chief Banks and let him know of your offer." He stood up now, using his height to his advantage. "If you do anything to make me regret this opportunity, you'll get no second chances."

He let his own power sizzle out into the room, backing up his words with a silent promise. Though he was young by vamp standards – some of the Masters were three times his age – he had an edge, a little something extra that added to his juice, made him a more formidable force. There were not many that would challenge him, though it did happen occasionally; he had yet to be defeated.

"Understood, Master." Cassandra bowed her head again, hands clasped loosely at her back.

"Sharyn, the rules please."

"There will be no violence against the mortals." Sharyn ticked each item off on her fingers. "There will be no violence against other vampires, unless a challenge has been issued. All disputes will be brought before the Master of the City. Blood may be taken from donors only; no hunting. You are to notify the Master of the City as soon as you have a permanent residence. During your probation you will be subject to random visits to both your residence and your place of business. Once your probation is over, you will swear your allegiance to the Master of the City and through him the Regent of Washington."

"I understand," Cassandra said obediently.

Jim tapped the intercom on his desk. "Kyle. Two ID cards, please."

"Yes, Boss."

"I'll be checking up on you," he said to Cassandra. "Make sure your puppy knows the rules as well. His infractions will be yours."

"Yes, Master."

Sharyn showed them both out. They would be photographed, their information filed electronically. All resident vamps were required to have a photo ID on them at all times; those without permission to be in the city would face stiff consequences if caught. And Jim almost always caught them.

He turned back to the glass, watching the lithe bodies dancing under the lights, and those standing by the bar or sitting at little tables scattered around the dance floor. To Jim's sharp eyes, they all seemed hungry. For attention, for companionship, for sex…for blood. None of it appealed to him, except the blood. There were nights when he missed the hunt, missed the chase, but times had changed. He had occasional lovers, none of them mortal, but that was merely to scratch an itch. There was no desire for a day-to-day companion; too much work, too much of his treasured privacy lost. Some days it was all he could do to tolerate Sharyn, and she was more than just his lieutenant; she was his friend, despite the fact that she looked no more than sixteen years old.

Half an hour later he was still standing there, watching without really seeing, listening to conversations taking place throughout the club. His office was soundproofed against the keen hearing of other vampires, but his highly sensitive ears were not deterred by such a barrier. Only Sharyn, currently walking the perimeter with an eye out for trouble, knew he could hear everything out in the club from here, and that's the way he wanted to keep things. It was extraordinarily useful to be able to eavesdrop on your employees.

He heard it, then. Just a mortal heartbeat, one of many, but it made his body twitch as if remembering what it was to gasp for a breath that was no longer needed. More than just the rhythmic pumping of blood, it was like a particularly well-rendered guitar riff. He wanted to hear more, so he opened his hearing even further. The voice that belonged to the heartbeat was speaking, and it was a male voice. Deep and pleasant to listen to, and he found himself doing just that without actually hearing a single word the man was saying.

"Boss?" Kyle stuck his head back in the door; he never knocked. "Got a guy out here asking for an audience with you."

"What does he want?"

"He's writing a book. Said he had some questions for you."

Jim sighed. Someone was always writing a book, as if there could possibly be more to say on the subject of vampires. It was tiresome. Still, that heartbeat intrigued him.

"I'll see him." He remained standing, arms crossed in front of his chest. He had little patience for the writers of vampire books, be they fact or lurid fiction. He expected the author to be another slick, Goth-wannabe; he was pleasantly surprised.

The man Kyle showed into the office was short and lean, with a mass of curly brown hair and eyes such a deep, clear blue that Jim wondered if they were colored contacts; his enhanced vision told him they were not. He wore a pair of faded jeans with holes in the knee and a white thermal long-sleeved shirt under a black leather jacket. Jim sniffed the air unobtrusively, scenting the stranger that now stood in front of him. Sweat, herbal shampoo, cucumber body wash, and underlying all that the smell of living flesh with blood thrumming close to the surface, metallic and delicious.

"Hey…uh…should I bow or something?" he asked, shifting from foot to foot.

"That won't be necessary."

"Oh, well, good. Blair Sandburg." The curly-headed author stuck out his hand. Jim regarded it for a moment, amused, and then shook it. He could feel the heat pouring off his skin, that one touch so full of life it was staggering. This was no mere mortal, and his curiosity was definitely aroused.

"Please have a seat." Jim gestured to a grouping of wing back chairs, sinking down into one himself. "What can I do for you?"

Blair sat opposite him, but he seemed unable to keep himself still. His leg jittered and he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Jim might have chalked it up to nerves, but the other man was making eye contact with him and that was something most mortals were too afraid to do. Likewise, his heart rate and respirations were slightly elevated but steady.

"So you're Jim Ellison? The Master of the City and all that?"

"Yes."

"You are _so_ not what I was expecting, man." Blair ran a hand through his hair, momentarily pushing the curls away; a glint of silver winked at his wrist. No-one could match a vampire for complete stillness but Jim's eyes couldn't help following that movement.

"Sorry to disappoint," Jim replied dryly.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" Blair held up his hands in a placating gesture. "It's just, the others…they projected the accepted media image of a vampire. Leather, ruffles, that kind of thing."

"Others?" Jim asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah. The other Masters. I've interviewed probably six or so of them. Although, actually, the Master of Memphis had a whole evil Elvis thing going on that was kind of interesting. I mean, sure, it was creepy, but points for originality, right?"

Jim was surprised, and that wasn't something that happened often. This guy – a kid, really, he couldn't be much older than twenty seven or twenty eight – had met with that many Masters and lived to tell about it? He himself had met many of them, and more than a few had been crazy. Or depraved, or both. It was easy to let yourself get twisted up in the dark side of things when you were staring eternity in the face. He'd probably be just like them in another century or two.

"What is your book about?" Jim asked, honestly curious. Especially when he heard Blair's heart rate speed up.

"Well, you know, my focus is on…ah…heightened senses."

There was no reason he should've been nervous about his subject matter, except that it had been covered by other authors in the past. Mortals were so interested in every aspect of being a vampire; he was surprised more of them didn't ask to be turned.

"There's nothing much new to say on that topic, is there?" he asked. Blair leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and studied Jim closely.

"Better eyesight, better hearing, dizzying speed. Glamour. I'm not talking about any of that. Maybe…you've heard of a vamp that has others?"

"Others?" Jim settled back in his chair, amused. "We don't turn into bats or mist. We can't fly; even vampires have to obey the laws of physics. And we're not all sex-craved nymphomaniacs."

Blair laughed, and Jim found himself opening up hearing just a bit so that he could take it in. There was nothing this mortal did that wasn't somehow compelling to him, and he had no idea why; it made him uneasy.

"You've got a pretty good sense of humor, man," the mortal said. "You don't find that too much with other Masters."

"I'm not as old as other Masters."

"Yeah, well, I'm looking for something…different. Heightened senses beyond the vamp norm. Smell, for example. Or taste."

Jim's amusement dried up in an instant and he narrowed his eyes at his guest, listening for signs of a trap. He detected no changes in Blair's physiology that would indicate he was planning something, or trying to catch him out. Still, Sharyn was one of only two vamps alive who knew of his additional gifts and he intended to keep it that way.

"Vampires don't have heightened smell or taste," he said stiffly.

This time Blair studied him, head tipped ever so slightly to the side. "You're lying," he murmured. "And I understand why you have to. But you can trust me."

Jim let some of his power seep out, enough for even a mortal to feel it skipping over his skin, and fixed a steely stare at the would-be author. "This interview is over."

"Jeez, take it easy!" Blair rubbed at his arms, and Jim could see that the fine hairs on them standing up.

Without needing to summon her, Sharyn suddenly appeared at the door. "Your bidding, Master?" She gave him a look and he knew she was wondering why he'd sent his power out into the room.

"Please escort Mr. Sandburg out and assure he gets safely to his vehicle," Jim said, standing.

Sharyn wrapped one slender hand around Blair's bicep and pulled him to his feet. He tried to get his arm loose, but she had a steely grip. "Right this way, Mr. Sandburg."

"No, wait, listen!" Blair continued to struggle as Sharyn pulled him out the door. "This is really important, here!"

Jim closed the door on his protests, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. Part of him hadn't wanted to send Blair away, though instinct told him the man would be back. He wanted something that Jim wasn't prepared to give him, something no other creature, living or dead, could ever know.

The important question was how this young mortal had discovered that Jim was a Sentinel as well as a vampire. He knew there was no written record of it; his Making had been kept a secret from mortals and vamps alike. So why was Blair asking questions? Clearly he was fishing, if he was interviewing other Masters. So he knew the vagaries, perhaps, but had no name to pin on it. It would be the only thing that saved his life. For now.

Jim sat back down, feet propped up on the edge of his desk. He watched the monitors without really seeing them. It had been more years than he could remember since he'd been honestly surprised, and Blair Sandburg seemed like he would be full of surprises. Without realizing he was even doing it, Jim took a deep and completely unnecessary breath, drinking in the faint remnants of cucumbers and mortal musk that lingered in the air. And smiled.

* * *

_**AN: **Smiles2Go is completely responsible for this fic. She brought vamps into the conversation, made me think about them, and BAM! Another dang bunny bites me on the leg. Pretty sure it was Bunnicula, too. ::grins::_

_This was going to just be a shortish songfic, but I gave in to peer pressure and broke it out into its own fic. Which turned out to be good, because now I can expand things a bit more without having to worry about length._

_Many sources have probably influenced this songfic. Including the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter novels by Laurell K. Hamilton (supernatural porn at it's best, by the way), the Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris, Moonlight starring the ever adorable Alex O'Loughlin, and possibly even Lost Boys, my fave vamp movie of all time. Rest assured, though, that Vampire Jim will NOT sparkle. LOL!_

_This fic will be my first that is posted concurrently here and over at Archive of our Own. If things turn explicit at any time during this fic, and I don't know for sure yet if they will, all the good parts will be posted on Archive and will be edited out for responsible FF posting. ::insert sarcasm here:: But I'll let you know if or when that happens._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Blair sat on the floor of his hotel room, legs crossed and eyes closed. He was surrounded by a ring of white pillar candles that covered the room in flickering shadows. He breathed deeply, keeping a regular rhythm. Some incense would have helped, but he didn't want to press his luck with the smoke detector.

His interview with the Master of the City – _Vampire Jim_, he chuckled to himself – hadn't gone at all as he'd expected. There'd been none of the pomp and circumstance that the other Masters had required, and none of the usual trappings that the others had surrounded themselves with. Jim Ellison had seemed almost normal, his sense of humor surprising. He was incredibly good-looking as well, which seemed to be a vamp thing as far as Blair could tell. Even the grossly overweight Master of Memphis had exuded a kind of other-worldly beauty.

More importantly, Jim's reaction to Blair's question about the senses had been very telling. It wasn't often that a mortal could catch a vamp off-guard, and that's exactly what had happened. Otherwise, he was certain that Jim would've kept his tone light and mocking and then sent him on his way with a smile. This was the best lead he'd had in a long while and he wasn't about to let it go. Clearly the Master knew about a vamp with those extra senses; well, that was why he'd started interviewing the Masters in the first place, because they best knew the vamps in their territory. Now he just had to convince Jim to give him a name, and he had no idea how to go about it.

Blair sighed. Meditation wasn't working for him. The big problem wasn't that he didn't have a plan, it was that he'd felt something for the vampire. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly; a connection of some kind, however tenuous. He'd felt a lot of things about vamps in the past – fear, curiosity, pity – and it wasn't like he was a fangophobe. To each their own had always been his motto, and he'd never delved very far into the vamp experience because it just wasn't his thing. There was something about that one vamp, though…

"Screw it," he muttered, frustrated. He unfolded himself and blew out the candles.

He needed to find out more about Jim Ellison, get an edge of some kind that would open negotiations between them and get Blair to his ultimate goal – finding the Sentinel that had been turned into a vampire. It had only been chance, a cosmic alignment of circumstances that had even brought the possibility of a vamp Sentinel to his attention. One short, offhand passage in a dusty old book no-one had read in probably a hundred years. It had become his obsession, and he was determined to see it through.

To that end he got out his address book and placed a call to his friend Peter Clark, who was a professor in NYU's Anthro Vamp department. Peter was compiling a vamp database, with help from other agencies and a vamp liaison; if anyone had dirt on the Master of the City of Cascade, it was Peter.

"Sandburg, you asshole! Do you know what time it is?"

Blair grinned. "Quit your bitching, man. I know your night is just getting started."

Peter worked nights, conducting evening classes and interviewing vamps for the database. There had been a lot of divisiveness surrounding the project – some felt it put the vamps at risk to have all that information available, while others felt it was a good way to bring the vamp community closer together. Surely the government, in the guise of the Bureau of Vampire Affairs, was working on its own list, but that wasn't even remotely accessible to civilians. Peter's project had certainly proven useful to Blair when he had to meet with various high-level vamps in his pursuit of the Sentinel.

"Yeah, and my schedule is packed. What do you need?"

"What do you have on Jim Ellison?" Blair asked, grabbing for his notebook. "Master of the City…"

"…of Cascade, yeah I know. Hang on. It won't be a lot, he keeps ignoring my requests for an interview."

Blair could hear Peter tapping at his keyboard. He waited patiently, glad he was able to catch his friend at his computer. Another piece of luck, as if the universe was on his side. It was a fanciful thought but it pleased him nonetheless.

"Okay. Here we go. James Joseph Ellison. Birth certificate lists his DOB as April 25, 1823. Born in Philadelphia. Next documentation I have places him in Washington Territory in 1855, Captain of the US Army stationed at Fort Cascades. No wedding certificate on file. No property in his name. Fell off the grid in 1856, so that may be the year he was vamped."

"Interesting that he chose to settle back in Washington," Blair mused thoughtfully, tapping his pen against his chin. "Any record of him between '56 and Longest Night?"

Vamps had come out of the figurative supernatural closet in late 1987, during a special television broadcast with Dan Rather. There had been immediate panic, except from the small minority of people who had maintained for years that vamps were real and not just figments of fiction. The furor and fear that followed had lasted nearly a week, and been dubbed by some media pundit as Longest Night. Blair didn't know why these things needed names.

"It gets tricky there," Peter said. "All we have right now are second- and third-hand accounts of some of his activities, and those are spotty at best. He's stayed pretty well off the radar, until '87. He now owns several properties in the Cascade area, and is reportedly one of the youngest vamps to hold such a high station."

"What about his lieutenant?"

"We only have her first name, Sharyn. She's a complete blank otherwise." There was more tapping. "Hey, if you're going to meet with this guy, can you put in a good word for me?"

Blair doodled on his notebook. "I already met with him, just trying to figure out an angle for a second go."

"Listen, Sandburg." Peter hesitated for a moment. "Maybe you should stop this. Stop meeting with all these Masters. It's dangerous."

Blair looked down at the silver cuff on his right wrist, feeling the mass of scars that hid beneath it. He knew it was dangerous. Had experienced first hand how dangerous. But he couldn't stop now, especially when he was so close.

"I'll be careful," he promised. "No chances."

"Right," Peter replied, sounding less than convinced. "Look, tomorrow go see Dr. Stoddard at Rainier University. He's the head of the Anthro Vamp department. He'll have a better idea of the climate of things in Cascade, and possibly more background on Ellison. Make sure you see him before you take another go at the Master."

"That's a good idea. Thanks, Peter."

"You can thank me the next time you're in the City. I know just the place you can take me for dinner."

Blair laughed and hung up the phone. He made a note to call Rainier the following morning and see if he could get in to see Dr. Stoddard. Peter was right, he needed to be smart about this. He should've done this research before he even came to Cascade; he was getting sloppy.

With a sigh, he stretched out on the bed. Still too awake to even think about sleeping, despite the late hour, he turned on the TV and flipped around the channels until he found a station running the Studio Vlad production of Hamlet. It was a vamp-only movie studio, which meant everyone from the Key Grip to the actors had fangs. Their productions were noted for spare sets, putting all the focus on the characters. This worked especially well for Hamlet, and Blair couldn't help but wonder if the actors had been contemporaries of Shakespeare; his words sounded beautiful falling from their lips. Interestingly, Studio Vlad never made any films about vampires.

He fell asleep partway through the movie, and dreamed.

*o*o*o*

_Blair stood on a street corner in an unknown city. The wide street was cobblestone, and a fancy horse-drawn carriage went clomping past. The man riding in the back wore a black top hat and a black suit. On one side of the street were handsome brownstone buildings, and on the other a park bordered by a wrought-iron fence. There were a lot of people on the sidewalk, the men in suits and the women in dresses with long, full skirts._

_ "You've come," a woman's voice said. Blair turned, and it felt as if he was moving through syrup. Finally, he found himself face to face with a pretty woman that had fiery red hair pulled into a long braid and dancing blue eyes. She wore a long blue plaid dress with a bell-like skirt and wide sleeves._

_ "Do I know you?" Blair asked, confused._

_ "No, and more's the pity." Her voice held an Irish lilt. "You need to finish what I started, mo aingeal."_

_ "Who are you?" _

_ "Bonnie." She reached out as if to touch his face, but her hand hovered just above his skin; Blair thought he could feel the warmth of it. "You've a fight ahead, and great sorrows. I'm sorry for that."_

_ "I don't understand."_

_ Bonnie lowered her hand, a wistful expression on her face as she smoothed her skirt. "Tá mo chroí istigh ionat."_

_ "Wait, please!" But Bonnie was gone, as suddenly as she'd appeared, leaving Blair alone on the sidewalk. Everyone else that had been going about their day vanished along with her, the sudden quiet unnerving._

_ Darkness moved across the face of the sun, throwing shadows across the sidewalk. Blair shivered, as much from the sudden drop in temperature as the feeling that someone was standing directly behind him and literally breathing down his neck._

_ "I'm not ready," he said fearfully, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please."_

_ "It's too late," a masculine voice whispered in his ear. Then there was pain, white hot, and everything else fell away._

*o*o*o*

Blair called the university right after breakfast, and was transferred several times before he reached the Anthropology Department. He made an appointment with Dr. Stoddard's secretary for later in the day, and decided to take to the streets of the city; he could get a feel of the Cascade vibe that way, and if his travels took him to the police department that would be good too because he'd like to know more about the new Vampire Crimes Unit. He tossed his notebook into his backpack and headed out.

It was an usually warm day for the Pacific Northwest; from everything Blair had heard before he'd made the trip out there, April was a very rainy month in a very wet state. Today, though, there was a wide swath of blue sky overhead and the temperature seemed to be easing into the high fifties. Still, he was glad for the corduroy jacket he wore when the sun dipped behind a cloud, throwing an extra chill in the air.

Cascade wasn't much different from any other city that Blair had been a guest of in the past few years. A few more coffee bars, perhaps, and a lack of sidewalk seating for the bistros in deference to the weather. There were townhouses, row houses, apartment buildings, and run down tenements. Shaded, cobblestone pedestrian-only shopping areas and mini malls, and the oversized Harbor View Mall. Corporate high-rises shared space with medical facilities. There was a small Chinatown, as well as other ethnic neighborhoods like Little Russia and Little Italy.

The overall feel that Blair got as he walked was one of diversity. He imagined the police department was kept quite busy – sometimes diversity wasn't a good thing, and with so many different ethnic groups living so closely together there were bound to be cultural misunderstandings and the continuation of age-old vendettas. The police presence seemed good, though. Lots of cruisers out on the streets, and a goodly amount of beat cops making their rounds.

Eventually he found himself standing in front of the Cascade Police Department building itself. The only thing that distinguished it from the other tall, glass-fronted buildings around it was a wide section of cheerily bright tile work, small squares primarily of ceramic blue in varying shades. Blair went through the metal detector, stood patiently for a thermal scan, and waited while his backpack was given a cursory search. He was impressed by the level of security, noting several cameras as well.

He checked the directory, and then took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The Desk Sergeant directed him back to the small office space that had been given to the VCU. Blair went through the door and then hesitated, unsure what he should do next. There were three desks crammed into the office, as well as a brown leather armchair and several tall filing cabinets. Two of the desks were occupied, one by a young, good-looking man dressed in an impeccable grey suit and the other by a woman wearing a bright pink pants suit; it was the woman who looked up when he came in.

"Help you?" she asked. Blair was surprised to hear an Australian accent.

"This is the Vampire Crimes Unit?"

"Last I checked." She got to her feet and held out her hand. "Detective Megan Connor. That bloke there is Detective Brian Rafe."

Blair shook her hand. "Blair Sandburg. I'm doing some research on the local vamp scene and I was hoping I could talk to you about the VCU. Cascade PD is the first law enforcement agency to actively hire a vamp; the whole country is watching to see if you succeed or fail. Lot of pressure."

Detective Connor motioned for him to sit in the empty chair next to her desk. Blair dropped his backpack at his feet and pulled out his notebook.

"What's this research for?" Detective Rafe asked, elegantly steepling his fingers. Blair wondered how a guy that looked like a GQ cover became a cop, much less a member of an experimental unit.

"I'm kind of freelance, actually. I write articles for various publications across the country; I can get you some references if you like."

"That shouldn't be necessary," Detective Connor replied, shooting her partner a look. "We'd be glad to give you a few minutes of our time."

Blair made a show of writing down their names. He _did_ write freelance articles for educational publications, that wasn't a lie. There was no need to mention that he was currently neck-deep in his own personal research, and he didn't want to bring up his meeting with Jim Ellison. It would be more interesting to see how he naturally came up in the conversation, if he did at all.

"Who are the other members of your team?"

"Detective Henri Brown and Tomás Ortega, our Vampire Consultant."

Blair dutifully took notes. "Now as I understand it, your role is to focus on crimes both against and committed by vampires."

"That's right," Detective Connor agreed. "Tomás is our link to the vampire community here in Cascade. He keeps his ear to the ground, looking for any signs of trouble. Normally the Master of the City and his Sheriff would handle this kind of thing, but Police Chief Banks and the Master of Cascade had a series of meetings and decided that this would be better for both mortals and vampires."

"How so?"

Detective Rafe took over the narrative. "When the Master handles all the vamp business in-house, it can make humans mistrustful and suspicious. And makes the vamps feel they maybe have an edge. This way, it's all handled through our office so that everyone gets the same kind of fair treatment they'd get from Homicide or Major Crimes. The only difference is we have a better handle on how to work with the vamps."

"Your Master sounds very unconventional," Blair remarked. Now that Jim had been brought up he could direct the conversation where he wanted it to go.

"The Master of Cascade is a corker," Detective Connor agreed. "He honestly seems to have the best interests of vampires and humans alike in mind. The vampire community really respects him, because he's aces at making this a safe city for everyone to share. Plus, he's bloody beautiful."

Blair silently agreed. Tall, muscular without being bulky, keen blue eyes…Vampire Jim was definitely pleasing to look at. He caught himself doodling fangs in the margin of his notebook and flushed.

"So…uh, you think the Master has been a positive influence on Cascade?"

"I've seen how a Master can destroy a city," Detective Rafe said quietly. "Jim Ellison has been nothing but an asset to Cascade."

"And his…_assets_…are formidable, are they not?" A silky voice murmured in Blair's ear and he jumped. The vamp moved around the desk with fluid grace and draped himself across the leather chair. He had olive skin and dark eyes, and wore a tight black suit with a wine red silk shirt.

"You must be Tomás," Blair said.

"_S__í_, Professor. And you are looking for information on the Master, are you not?" Tomás smiled lazily. "I hear your meeting last night was…brief."

Blair was surprised; the vamp grapevine was better than he'd thought. Detective Rafe gave him a speculative look.

"Yeah, well. Um. He was pretty busy." He winced at how lame that sounded. Detective Connor frowned at him.

"What's your interest in the Master of the City?"

"Like I said, it's all just research. The relationship between Cascade and the Master of the City is unique. Things like the VCU seem like a natural fit here when they'd never be attempted elsewhere." Blair tucked a stray curl behind his ear; no elastic in the world was good enough to keep his hair under control.

"We have that relationship because there's mutual trust between us and Jim Ellison," Detective Rafe said curtly. "I'm sorry, but we have work to do."

"Yes, of course." Blair stowed his notebook and slung the backpack over his shoulder as he stood. "Thank you for taking time out to talk to me."

"Tread carefully, _mi amigo_," Tomás said, appearing suddenly at his side. "The Master protects us, as we do him."

"I'm no threat to your Master," Blair said, confused as to why anyone would think so. "I'm just an anthropologist."

"I wonder," the vampire murmured. He dipped his head and went back to lounge in his chair, seemingly without a care in the world.

Blair took his leave of Cascade PD, relieved. However much vampires had become commonplace in the past nine years, it was still unnerving to see one out and about in the daytime. Then again, Tomás was the only one he knew that worked in law enforcement; most vamps worked during the night, when they were strongest. He knew the sun sapped their strength to some degree, and extended exposure to direct sunlight could prove fatal, but contrary to popular fiction they didn't burst into flames as soon as the sun touched them. He wondered what they did during the day, the vamps that worked at the clubs and bars and other places that only opened after dark. Did they sleep?

He looked at his watch and decided he had time enough for lunch before he had to find transportation out to Rainier University. He wondered how hard it would be to find a vegetarian restaurant.

*o*o*o*

Dr. Stoddard stood up behind his desk and came around to shake Blair's hand. He was an older man, his hair gray and his expression intent. Blair felt like he was being carefully examined, his character weighed and measured before he'd even had a chance to open his mouth and say anything.

"Please, have a seat."

"I appreciate you making the time to meet with me, Dr. Stoddard."

"It's Eli. And it's the least I can do for a fellow anthropologist."

The two men sat in straight-backed chairs arranged around a small round table. Blair turned down an offer for coffee, not wanting to waste any time.

"So what brings you to Cascade, Professor Sandburg?"

"Just Blair. I'm doing some research on the Master of the City and his unique relationship with Cascade law enforcement and politics."

"What school are you affiliated with?" Eli asked.

"I'm on a sabbatical from Brown University," Blair said. "I've been traveling around, meeting with other Masters. I'd like to do a paper on the different ways that the vampire and mortal communities integrate, and how that might be influenced based on region."

Eli nodded. "That sounds very nice. Now, why are you really here?"

"I don't know what you…"

"Don't feed me the publishing summary, son." Eli grinned at him. "What are you really here for?"

Blair's jaw clenched tightly. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. Usually he was much smoother, more able to think on his feet. But since he got to Cascade it seemed everything was throwing him for a loop. Nothing was going as planned. He mentally regrouped.

"The subject of my paper is real, Dr. Stoddard. I have interviewed several Masters, and have had a preliminary meeting with the Master of Cascade." Blair rested his elbows on the table. "I want to know more about why things work here that don't work anywhere else."

"You want to know more about Jim Ellison." Eli took off his glasses and cleaned them. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much. He's a very self-contained vampire. He doesn't care to mingle much with the mortals of the city, despite the way he seems to look after them. His Lieutenant and his Sheriff do a lot of the heavy lifting. Jim prefers to stay behind the scenes."

"Isn't that rather unusual?"

Eli shrugged and slipped his glasses back on. "Vampires are just as diverse as we are, Blair. You can't expect them to all act the same. They have different life experiences, different death experiences. I wasn't here when the previous Master of the City was in charge, but he ran things much differently. Jim has found ways to reorganize that bring more stability to both our groups."

"Do the local vampires support him? I've heard he comes down pretty hard on anyone who breaks his rules."

"For the most part, yes. Vampire loyalty is high, because they know he supports them and looks out for them. Many vampires at his level in the hierarchy will use their kind, force them into doing things they don't want to do because they have sworn an allegiance. Here in Cascade, that is not the case. It's a level of security that a lot of vampires have never had, and as a result they will protect their Master with a fervor usually not seen."

Blair thought about that for a minute. He was under no illusions that Vampire Jim was some kind of undead saint. Before Longest Night, he was forced to live in the shadows and hunt for blood just like the others. He'd probably taken countless lives, both mortal and vampire. So why the pretty picture being painted by everyone he talked to? What was different about this Master?

"Are you looking for a new dissertation topic?" Eli asked.

"What?"

"Did you think I wouldn't check you out before meeting with you?" The older man chuckled. "I talked to your department head."

"Were you hoping to catch me in a lie, man? Because I've told you the truth about everything." Blair tried for righteous indignation, but it fell a little flat.

"You abandoned your dissertation over a year ago. You could've been a PhD by now."

Blair sighed. "My topic reached a dead end. There was nothing more I could do. So yeah, I guess I'm looking for a new direction."

"Sentinels? That's a fairly far-fetched idea, even for an anthropologist."

"No more far-fetched than vampires were just ten years ago."

Eli nodded. "True. So now what?"

"Now, I get a full interview with Jim Ellison and then move on to the next city and the next Master, until I have enough information to put something together." There was something, though, niggling at the back of his mind. He tried to concentrate on it, but it squirmed out of his mental reach.

"I'll wish you good luck, then, Professor."

Knowing this meeting was over, Blair stood and shook Dr. Stoddard's hand again. "Thank you for your time."

"My pleasure."

Blair slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out of Hargrove Hall. He paused by the large fountain there, sitting on the edge. So far everyone he talked to was quoting the party line about the Master of the City. Surely there had to be something more. No vampire could be that altruistic. Usually the Master watched out for his vamps, and didn't give much thought to the mortal community they shared space with. Each group policed themselves, which wasn't all that effective. But here in Cascade, the Master watched over both his own group and the mortals as well. The presence of the VCU was a good example of that.

And then it hit him, all at once, leaving him open-mouthed. It all made sense if you factored in one important detail.

Jim Ellison must be the Sentinel that Blair was looking for.

* * *

_**AN: **So this became the exposition chapter – chock full of info on Jim, Blair and vamps. Thanks to Blair for doing all the leg work, LOL! Now that we have all the pieces in place, it's time to start getting to the heart of the matter. Don't you think? Yeah, me too!_

_Tá mo chroí istigh ionat – My heart is within you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

As Master of the City, Jim Ellison was expected to adhere to a certain level of privilege. He had to dress well, speak well, and generally behave as if he were better than just about everyone. For instance, he should have a chauffeur at his beck and call instead of driving himself around like some kind of plebian. Jim took a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that he never showed up at city functions or vamp events in a long stretch limo, as expected; he enjoyed driving, loved the feel of the engine vibrating through his hands and feet. The invention of the automobile was truly inspired, in his opinion, and definitely better than riding a horse or bumping along in a wagon.

He took a corner at high speed, a move that would have tossed a mortal passenger against the window; Sharyn remained contentedly still, her feet up and braced on the dashboard. Jim was driving the black Porsche 911 tonight and was headed out of the city and into the suburbs. One of his well-paid snitches had heard about an unauthorized rave and Jim was going to put a stop to the festivities. He'd already called Detective Brown of the VCU to give him a heads-up. But he'd get there first.

"If any of ours are there?" Sharyn asked, her placid expression belied by the thrum of excitement in her voice; she was spoiling for a fight.

"Depends on the circumstances," Jim replied. His lieutenant nodded. She knew the drill – if there were mortal casualties, then vamp casualties would follow. Jim had a zero tolerance policy as far as that was concerned. He tried not to begrudge her for hoping at least one mortal would be dead when they arrived on the scene.

The snitch's directions led to a new subdivision that was still under construction. There were a handful of completed houses, though they were still empty, and a handful more in various stages of completion. Hulking machinery lay silent, waiting for the work crew that would be back on Monday. Jim opened up hearing, not that he needed it to spot the site of the rave. It was only a little after eleven, which hopefully meant that the party had just started. He didn't want any fatalities, on either side.

He whipped the Porsche into the swath of dirt that would one day be a driveway and threw it into park, contemplating the house for a moment. It was almost finished; the siding was up, but there were flapping squares of plastic in place of windows. Lights and music were coming from inside, and several cars haphazardly parked out front on what would be the front lawn once grass seed was put down.

"How many?" Sharyn asked, her whole body tense with anticipation.

Jim did a head count, using hearing to count the number of hearts beating. This normally didn't help detect vampires, unless they'd just fed, but he was able to sense them as well; vamps gave off their own unique signature. His jaw clenched in anger.

"Fourteen mortals, eight vamps. One is ours. They've all fed." Vamp raves tended to be smaller than the massive human ones that sometimes cropped up in downtown Cascade, but they were also held in more remote areas.

Sharyn gave a whoop of excitement and popped out of the car, her dark eyes glittering. "Don't do your thing till we get inside. I want to see their faces."

Jim nodded, following her at a more sedate pace. He backed off on hearing, not wanting to be overwhelmed by the thumping beat of the music that was playing. There was a vamp at the back door, one of the out-of-towners; he'd be the one working as bouncer and collecting the money. The guy was built and clearly proud of it, showing off his bulging muscles with a skin-tight black shirt. As soon as he caught sight of Jim he whipped a cell phone out of his pocket and started to place a call.

"Sharyn."

"On it." Sharyn was a blur, speeding to the door and knocking the phone from the guy's hand. From the sound of it, she broke a few of his bones as well. While she finished up with him, Jim continued on into the house. He went through the kitchen door and into what would be the main living area. The smell of fresh blood was pervasive, and Jim's nostrils flared to drink up the scent. Vampires could survive on SynthLife, the synthetic blood that had been created for them, but nothing packed the same punch as fresh, hot mortal blood. Plenty of it had been spilled here already from what he could tell and that kicked his anger up an extra degree.

White and pink strobe lights made the dancers' movements look jerky, and a smoke machine had the floor covered in ankle deep grey mist. A DJ had set up in one corner and Jim pulled back on hearing to keep from being deafened by it. He drew on all his power, feeling it like a ball of crackling pressure in his rib cage, and then sent it out into the room. The DJ's electrical equipment sparked, the music cutting out, and the strobe lights exploded, plunging the room into darkness. Jim opened up vision, almost amused at the way the mortals and vamps alike froze in place, eyes wide.

"Who the hell responsible for this party?" Jim's voice boomed out into the room, making someone whimper in fear. He caught sight of a vamp and several mortals who were making their way towards the windows; he'd leave them for Sharyn.

"You can't just shut down my party!" A young vamp was suddenly up in Jim's personal space, poking him in the chest. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Jim grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him up so that he was standing on tip-toes. "You should be asking yourself who I am, Junior. I'm the _Master_ of the _City_ of Cascade and you _didn't_ check in with me before throwing this little shindig. That makes you stupid, and that's _all_ I need to know about you."

He could hear whispers from the crowd, most of them sounding dismayed. They knew what it meant to have the Master here, and it wasn't good.

The vamp was flushing with anger, a sign that he'd just fed if Jim hadn't already known. "My Maker…"

"Clearly didn't explain to you how things work around here." He kept his grip tight on the vamp's neck and cast about for the one that belonged to him. "Stan! Get your ass over here!"

The mortals, who were now huddled in one corner of the room, quickly parted to make way for the vamp that was crawling forward across the floor, his head lowered and shoulders hunched. Sharyn came in behind Jim with her escapees, and took custody of the young vamp.

"Master," Stan said, his voice trembling. He pressed himself almost flat at Jim's feet.

"Who organized this, Stan? And it had better not be you."

"I did," said another vamp, coming forward and glaring at Jim. "The Regent of Washington is…"

"I don't care what he is to you. The Regent of Washington has imbued me with all the rights of this station, and that means that I make the laws in this territory. You could be his progeny, his lover or his damned puppy, and it wouldn't make the least bit of difference to me." Jim raised his voice to be sure everyone heard it. "I had to leave my club and drive down here because of you. Whoever you _think_ you are, here you're nothing. My town, my rules. And no-one comes in here unauthorized, not even the Regent himself."

"Listen, asshole…"

Jim punched the vamp in the face and sent him sprawling, blood flowing from his nose. Outside he could hear the VCU arrive, right on time. Sharyn pulled out her phone and placed a quick call to Detective Brown, confirming that they'd brought an ambulance in addition to the specialized vamp transport vehicle.

"On your feet, Stan."

The cowering vamp hurried to comply, color high on his cheeks. "What is your bidding, Master?"

"Get these mortals outside. Two have been over-drained, you make sure they get to the ambulance. And then you wait for me."

"Yes, Master." Stan became a blur of motion, herding the mortals out the front door.

"Vamps with me!" Jim commanded, adding compulsion to the power still crackling around the room. They all complied, though their angry faces said they didn't want to. Sharyn kept a hand on the young vamp while Jim yanked the mouthy one up off the floor by his belt and shoved him out the door.

The mortals were dealt with first, names taken down as they were piled into the backs of cop cars. They'd be charged with trespassing and unlawful congress. The vamps would face stiffer punishments, especially since two mortals had to be taken to the hospital for excessive blood loss; even if it was consensual, there were penalties.

Jim turned five of the vamps over to Detective Brown. "They aren't registered in Cascade, and have violated territorial rights."

"Mandatory ninety-day lock-up," Brown said, nodding. "Plenty of room."

"When your sentence is up," Jim said. "You will leave my city, and the next time I see you you'd better be crawling on your bellies and begging for asylum. If not, you will be Unmade."

He was gratified to see some fear in their eyes now. Whatever connections these punks thought they had, once in custody they would be required to complete the terms of their punishment without exception. The vamps responsible for them could appeal, of course, but they'd abide by the law; no-one was interested in starting a war over something this petty.

"What about the other two?" Detective Rafe asked, inclining his head in their direction.

"One is mine. The other organized the rave and is an outsider. They will both suffer the same punishment." Stan visibly wilted, but the mouthy vamp just snarled. "Ninety days chained and unfed, locked in solitary confinement."

"You can't do that!" one of the other vamps gasped.

"I can, and I will." He turned to the mouthy vamp, whose nose had finally stopped bleeding. "When your sentence is up you will be returned to your Maker, or whoever claims responsibility for you, with full knowledge that you have broken territorial agreements. I imagine they won't be very happy with you."

Jim turned to Stan. "As for you, after your sentence you will given probationary status for a period no less than a year. There will be no second chance."

"Thank you, Master," Stan whispered, eyes downcast.

"Sharyn."

"Already placed the call, Master. Joseph and Andrew should be here in fifteen minutes."

He nodded, pleased. His vamps would take the other two into custody and carry out their sentence. This would've normally been handled by his Sheriff, but he was out of town taking care of business at the far reaches of Jim's territory. Joseph and Andrew, nicknamed Fate and Fury by their fellow vamps, never had any trouble getting their hands dirty and always came up with innovative new ways of either extracting information or doling out punishments. Jim was certain they'd find an excellent place to stash their two newest victims.

He left everything else to the VCU, though he noted with a sense of inevitability that Tomás seemed determined to have a word with him. Sharyn stayed at his side, visibly annoyed that she hadn't been able to do more physical damage. Jim was going to have to get her back in the gym for some serious sparring before she lost control.

"Master." Tomás nodded his head respectfully.

"Tomás. Was there something you needed?" Jim didn't try to cover his impatience. Now that this job was done, he wanted to get back to the club. Kyle could manage in his absence, but he liked keeping a personal eye on things.

"I had a most interesting meeting this morning, _mi maestro_. A young student came to the VCU."

"Blair Sandburg," Jim guessed, the briefest of smiles tugging the corners of his mouth. "I had a feeling he'd be persistent."

"There is power there," Tomás said solemnly. "I do not understand it. _Tenga cuidado por favor__, __mi maestro__."_

_ "I'm always careful, __mi amigo__," Jim replied.__ He clapped _Tomás on the shoulder and turned away.

"You know I've got his back," Sharyn said.

"_Si, mi bello guerrera_." Tomás kissed her on the cheek before rejoining his team.

"You two need a moment?" Jim asked dryly. "Cause I'd really like to get back to the club now."

Sharyn shrugged. "He's sexy. I think it's the accent."

"He's slippery," Jim corrected, sliding back behind the wheel of the car.

"I'm not looking for a husband, Master. Just a little fun."

"You want some fun? We'll go to the gym tomorrow and see if you can take me down."

Sharyn propped her feet back up on the dashboard, grinning. "Sometimes a girl wants a different kind of fun."

"Hey, whatever you do on your day off is none of my business." Jim peeled away from the house, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

"Do you want me to look into Sandburg?" Sharyn switched gears swiftly. "He could be trouble."

Jim thought about that for a minute. Was Blair really a threat? He didn't think so. But Sandburg knew too much, was asking the wrong kind of questions. No matter what strangely warm feeling thoughts of the young author brought to the surface, he had a responsibility.

"Yeah. Try not to raise any red flags, just in case."

Sharyn frowned at him, lip ring catching the light from a passing car. "Hey, I can do subtle."

In response Jim just grinned and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator.

*o*o*o*

Saturday night and Club Doom was doing a brisk business. Jim watched it all from his office, enjoying the familiarity of it. The pulsing music, the idle chatter, the thick cloud of pheromones in the air; it was his home away from home, and while sometimes it gave him a headache he still enjoyed being in the midst of all that humanity. It got harder, remembering what it was to be human.

He knew the instant Blair Sandburg walked into the club; his heartbeat sounded in Jim's ears like a sweet song. He followed the mortal's progress through the bar, listening in as he chatted up anyone who would talk to him. Jim sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, amused.

_So you like working here? I hear your boss is a decent guy, for a vampire. Things stay pretty tame? Cause I've heard some really freaky stuff about a couple clubs in Seattle. Do you get a lot of tips? You got special rooms in the back? I've heard of those. Never…um…been in one though. I'm an anthropologist. Is the Master here every weekend? No, I've never tried a Bloody King George, is it good?_

When Jim felt Blair had babbled on long enough, he slipped out of the office and drifted through the crowd towards the bar. Sharyn caught his eye from across the dance floor, but he shook his head just a little to let her know there wasn't a problem. Not yet, anyway. He knew she'd keep close, as she always did. Despite all the action they'd had earlier, she was always hoping for more.

Blair was sitting at the bar, contemplating a dark red drink in a tall, skinny glass. It was a vamp drink, not something a mortal usually went for, and Jim favored the bartender with a dark look. He leaned over Blair's shoulder and plucked the glass from his hand.

"You don't want that," he murmured in young man's ear.

"Oh, hey." Blair sounded completely casual, but Jim could see him tense up, could hear his heart start to race.

"You've been asking questions about me."

"I'm a researcher. It's kind of what I do, man." Blair turned on the bar stool and looked up at Jim with those deep blue eyes, a smirk on his face.

"I didn't ask you to research me," Jim said dangerously, letting just a bit of his power leak out and run along the young mortal's skin. "_There's nothing for you here_."

Blair's brow furrowed, his whole face scrunching up in confusion. And then he grinned, as if delighted.

"Are you using compulsion on me? Man, that is _so_ cool!"

Jim took a step back. The mortal shouldn't have been able to consciously feel that, much less brush it off. Once again he had the feeling that there was something more to Blair, something he just couldn't put his finger on. He was glad that Sharyn had suggested the background check; maybe she could turn up something that would explain this.

Well, there was certainly more than one way to convince young Mr. Sandburg that he was in over his head. Plus, it would give him the opportunity to see what this mortal was made of. Jim let a sultry smile spread across his face and pulled Blair off the bar stool.

"Do you dance?" he asked, putting a little purr in his voice. As he'd hoped, the mortal's eyes widened.

"Uh…"

Jim tugged him out on the dance floor, where they were given a respectful bubble of space. The DJ switched to something moody, and he was sure he had Sharyn to thank for that. This was a routine they'd gone through once or twice before.

"I don't…" Blair started to say, but Jim grabbed his hips and pulled him close, moving him in time with the music. He recognized the song, something new from a vamp group called Spike.

_I died  
Many years ago  
But you can make me feel  
Like it isn't so  
And why you come to be with me  
I think I finally know  
Mmmm_

_You're scared_  
_Ashamed of what you feel_  
_And you can't tell the ones you love_  
_You know they couldn't deal_  
_Whisper in a dead man's ear,_  
_It doesn't make it real_

It didn't take long for Jim to realize that this was a horrible miscalculation on his part. Whatever strange power this mortal had over him was only accentuated by the close contact. His scent filled Jim's nasal passages – he was breathing without conscious thought to do so – and he could almost taste the man on the back of his tongue. All of his senses sharpened, and he found himself wanting more. He pulled Blair closer still until there was just a thin cushion of charged air between them. Jim worked his thumbs under the young mortal's shirt until he found bare skin, and he reveled in the smooth texture. He was warm with life, blood moving just below the surface. God, how he wanted to taste him!

_That's great - -  
But I don't wanna play  
'Cuz being with you touches me  
More than I can say  
But since I'm only dead to you  
I'm saying stay away  
And let me rest in peace_

_Let me rest in peace_  
_Let me get some sleep_  
_Let me take my love and bury it_  
_In a hole six foot deep_  
_I can lay my body down_  
_But I can't find my sweet release_  
_So, let me rest in peace_

Blair was moving on his own now, his compact body surprisingly lithe. He didn't touch Jim as he swiveled his hips suggestively, but his eyes were dark with lust and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his face. His heart was pounding and he was very nearly panting.

_I know I should go  
But I follow you like a man possessed  
There's a traitor here beneath my breast  
And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed  
If my heart could beat, it would break my chest  
But I can see you're unimpressed  
So, leave me be  
_

Jim pulled himself back with effort. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was like this mortal was using compulsion on _him_, and that was impossible. He wanted to wrap himself around Blair, use all his senses to explore him thoroughly. This dance had been nothing but a tease, foreplay; he wanted more. It was that wanting that helped him grab a modicum of control and he widened the space between himself and this suddenly dangerous mortal.

"Who _are_ you?" Jim asked.

"Yours," Blair breathed. Arousal clung to him like a shroud, flushing his skin pink.

Jim leaned forward, nose almost in the riotous curls, and inhaled deeply. He breathed in the herbal shampoo, the lingering traces of dirty city air, and below all of it the musk of the man himself. The urge to taste grew stronger, and he noted with surprise that his fangs had dropped down.

"You're in over your head," Jim said, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to Blair or to himself. He removed his hands, though he could still feel the mortal on his skin; it was a tingle that ran up his arm, prickling at him in a way that should have been unpleasant but was just the opposite.

"I…" Blair looked around, confused, as if seeing the club for the first time. "What?"

"_You need to go_." Jim used compulsion again, and this time it seemed to work, probably because the mortal's defenses were lowered. "_There's nothing for you here_."

"Go. Yeah, it's late. I'm…I have to go."

Jim watched him hurry off, grabbing his leather coat and heading right out the door. The music changed again, back to a frenetic rhythm, and he moved off the dance floor and back towards his office. He felt drained, tired. Sharyn appeared at his elbow and handed him a bottle of SynthLife, which he took gratefully and drained in one go. It helped him regain some of his equilibrium, and he was able to retract his fangs.

"What the hell was that?" Sharyn asked, closing the office door behind them and perching on the edge of his desk.

Jim shook his head, sinking down into his chair. "I don't know."

"You two were practically sparking out there. I've never seen anything like it." Sharyn didn't look impressed; she looked worried. "This mortal is dangerous, Master. I don't like this."

Jim smiled at her affectionately. "That makes two of us. I need to know more about him so I can assess the problem."

"I will take care of it right away," she replied.

"You do that. In the meantime, I _suggested_ to the mortal that he leave. Perhaps he will and then we'll be done with…whatever this is."

"Keep your enemies close," Sharyn murmured, as if reading his mind.

Jim couldn't blame her for thinking so. The mortal was an unknown, a wild card in an otherwise stacked deck. His first attempt at compulsion hadn't worked, and he wasn't sure the second one would stick. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted to know everything there was to know about Blair Sandburg.

* * *

_**AN: **Well, things are heating up between our handsome vamp and our intrepid anthropologist. I hope that dancing scene came across steamy enough. And what will Sharyn find out when she digs into Blair's life? You'll just have to wait and see!_

_Special thanks to hubby for his help with the rave scene. I struggled, he rescued._

_Tenga cuidado por favor__, mi maestro. (Be careful please, my master.)_

_Si, mi bello guerrera. (Yes, my beautiful warrior.)_

_The song that Jim and Blair dance to is actually from an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer called "Once More With Feeling" and is sung by Spike the vamp, played by James Marsters. Love that song!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Blair spent the next few days in a haze of research and speculation. He spent hours on the phone and the computer, contacting vampire experts across the country looking for answers to his questions. When he slept, his dreams were haunted by that dance he'd shared with the Master of the City. Never in his life had he experienced anything quite so erotic, and it scared him how readily he would've given himself over to the vampire had he but asked.

The other thing that was troubling him was his ability to resist Jim's use of compulsion. He'd never heard of a mortal being immune to that before, and he wondered if he was immune to glamour as well. Everything about Jim Ellison was a mystery – his past as well as his effect on Blair. It was a mystery he was determined to solve.

_To: bsandburg  
__From: phillipsb .org  
__Subject: Compulsion  
__Professor Sandburg,_

_I appreciate your inquiry. We have put a lot of focus into studying the use of compulsion and how it affects mortals. While some students jokingly refer to this particular ability as Jedi mind powers, the idea is actually similar in a way. Compulsion works best on weak-minded individuals, the type of person who is always looking to someone else for direction._

_The more powerful the vampire, the more powerful the compulsion. In our studies, we have been able to determine that almost no-one is completely immune to it. Anyone with experience building and using mental blocks, like a psychic for example, is more equipped to fight off compulsion. Given enough power and time, though, a vampire should be able to break down any kind of mental defense._

_Even more interesting is that a vampire can successfully use compulsion on others of their kind, though in that case it's a question of power. For example, a Regent would have sufficient power to use compulsion on any vampire below his or her station, but no-one below the Regent would be able to use compulsion back, if you see what I'm saying there._

_Oh, I should mention that compulsion is like hypnotism. A vampire can't use it to make a mortal do something that goes against their deeper nature. It's a little sketchier when it comes to the vampires themselves; since we aren't certain of how their nature alters once they've been changed, there's no way to tell what they would or wouldn't do under compulsion._

_If you have any further questions, or if you need clarification, please don't hesitate to contact me._

_Bryan Phillips, Assistant to the Director  
__Extrasensory Abilities Division  
__Center for Vampire Studies, West Coast  
_"_Promoting awareness through education."_

Blair wasn't sure what to make of that. He was fairly certain he didn't have any latent psychic abilities, but even if he did he had no idea how to go about constructing a mental block strong enough to keep a Master out of his head. The first time Jim had done it, he'd almost felt the vampire's presence moving through his mind. The second time…well. He'd bugged out of there without question, since he'd been pretty freaked out, but he knew he'd go back; that was a compulsion that over-rode the one Jim tried to plant in his head.

"Jesus, man, you're playing with fire," he muttered to himself. He was certain, though, that Jim Ellison was the Sentinel he'd been searching for. The vamp had been fairly devouring him with his senses out on the dance floor, which had only added to the heady feeling of attraction. Blair could recognize it well enough now that he had some distance, though that didn't make it any easier to deal with. He rubbed one hand absently over his hip, as if still feeling the grip of a strong hand there.

Blair wished it were as easy to get information on Sentinels as it was vampires. It was likely he was the only so-called expert in that particular field, and that wasn't saying much. What if his odd reaction to Jim was a Sentinel thing, and not a vamp thing? And did it really make a difference, either way? There was no separating one from the other. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"This sucks," he sighed. He shut the lid on the laptop and switched on the television, flipping around until he found a nice brainless comedy to lose himself in.

*o*o*o*

A knock at the door woke Blair with a start, and he had a moment of disorientation where he could still feel Jim's hands on him before he shed the remnants of his dream and staggered out of bed. It was only a little past six, time for dinner. He couldn't remember making plans with anyone to stop by. He stumbled across the room to the door and looked out through the peephole.

"Perfect," he mumbled to himself, resting his head on the door. Just what he needed.

"Blair, honey, let me in."

He unlocked the door and held it open, not bothering to fake a smile he didn't feel. "Mom."

"Did I wake you, sweetie? I'm sorry." Naomi Sandburg pressed a feather-light kiss on his cheek as she breezed past him, green and orange dress swirling around her ankles. "You could have told me what hotel you were staying at, Blair. Do you know how many I had to call to find you?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sitting back down on his bed. He turned off the television; he must've dozed off in the middle of the movie.

"I came to take you to dinner." Naomi smiled at him and this time Blair was able to give her one in return. It was just like his mother to drop by unexpectedly and expect him to be free. Some things never changed, and that seemed to hold especially true for her. She looked much younger than her age, which was some kind of state secret, though her red hair had more gray shot through it than he remembered.

"You came all the way to Washington to take me to dinner?" Blair asked.

"Of course. Get changed, sweetie. You're all rumpled."

With a sigh of resignation, Blair went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He washed up and tried to tame his sleep-mussed curls, with only moderate success. When he was finally as presentable as he was going to be, he rejoined his mother and grabbed his coat.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"I hear there's a nice Vietnamese restaurant right down the street," Naomi said, linking arms with Blair. "I've got a craving for _cháo long_."

Blair didn't ask how she knew about Việt House; Naomi had connections on top of connections, thanks to a lifetime of itinerant living, and had probably called one of her many friends for suggestions once she knew she was coming to Cascade.

Once they'd been seated in a cozy booth in the back of the restaurant and ordered their meals, Naomi got down to business. Blair had been expecting it; his mother always had ulterior motives, though he knew she was also honestly glad to visit with him.

"I was surprised to hear that you were spending so much time in Cascade," she said, toying idly with her water glass. "Normally your interviews take only a couple of days."

"Things have gotten a bit complicated," he admitted.

"Maybe you should just skip this one, sweetie." Naomi put her hand over his on the table. "The kind of research you're doing is important, I know that better than anyone, but maybe you should take a break."

Blair shook his head. "You don't understand. I've found him. After all these years, I finally found him."

"You can't…are you certain?" His mother studied him carefully, and he was surprised at the fear he saw in her eyes. She'd been nothing but supportive of him when he started his Sentinel research, and had agreed that he should take some time off from school to hunt down his very thin lead. He wondered now if there had been some underlying reason for her easy acceptance – perhaps she'd thought it so far-fetched that nothing would come of it? –and hated himself for thinking so.

"The Sentinel is here, the book was right. He was turned, Naomi, back in the 1850s. I talked to Peter at NYU and he isn't sure of the date, but I'm sure." The old excitement was back, and he freed his hand from his mother's grasp so he could gesture with it. "The only problem is he won't admit he knows anything about it, and I'm trying to figure out how to get him to come clean. This is finally it, Naomi!"

"Oh, honey." Naomi sighed and waved the waitress over, ordering a bottle of rice wine. "Who is he?"

"Well, that's the funny thing. The Sentinel and the Master of the City are one and the same." Blair sipped his water, making a face at the faint taste of chlorine. "And he's not exactly chatty, you know?"

"If he wants his space, you have to give it to him," Naomi said. The waitress returned with the wine. "If he won't talk to you, what's the point in staying? There's still a lot of good you can do with your research."

Blair watched her take a hearty swallow of the amber-colored wine and wondered what her game was. She seemed to want him to leave Cascade, but why? Before he could ask, the waitress was back with their entrees and they spent a few minutes just savoring their food. Blair didn't eat Vietnamese very often, so it was a nice treat and he didn't mind taking a little extra time with his oxtail curry.

"Okay, out with it Naomi," he said finally. "Why are you really here? No obfuscating, if you please."

His mother scowled at him. "There's no reason to get combative, Blair. I'm just concerned about you. I'm a mother, it's my prerogative."

"I acknowledge your concern," Blair said dryly. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

"I think you're too obsessed with this Sentinel business," Naomi said, looking him in the eye. "The road you're going down is a dangerous one, and I don't think you've thought things through. I'm just asking you to get away from here for a while and clear your head."

Blair didn't understand her attitude. She'd always been so supportive of his research, why the about-face now? He was sure it couldn't be the vampire thing, not with his mother. She was a prominent, vocal member of the Vampire Rights Association, which promoted fair treatment of vampires. They were essentially the abolitionists of their time, only instead of trying to ban slavery they were trying to abolish laws that kept vampires from having equal status and being able to hold so-called high risk jobs in places like hospitals and schools.

"There's nothing dangerous about Sentinels, Naomi," Blair patiently explained. "They're protectors, remember?"

"Not this one."

"Why not?" He pushed, something he usually didn't do with his mother. He just wanted to understand.

"Blair…"

"No, you tell me why this is different."

"Because he's a _vampire_," she hissed.

"What? What the hell difference does that make?" Blair pushed his plate away. "Does the VRA support this attitude?"

"This has nothing to do with the VRA," Naomi said, still keeping her voice down. "This has to do with my only son willingly going into the lion's den, and for what? To prove some dusty piece of folklore?"

Blair could only gape at her, and she pressed her advantage, gesturing violently with her fork.

"You know nothing about what it means to work with a Sentinel, never mind one who was turned. I've seen a lot since I've been with the VRA, Blair, and I can tell you that it's not all good. Vampires can't fight their natures, not really, and this one is a Master. You can't fight that kind of power."

"You're an unbelievable hypocrite." Blair found his voice, and it was quivering with anger. "You can't run around spouting off about equal rights for vampires and in the next breath tell me they're all senseless bloodsuckers. Jim's not like that!"

"Oh, so it's Jim already? How do you know he hasn't glamoured you? You can't trust him to be what he seems, Blair, you _know_ that."

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths before he said something he was going to regret. He didn't fight with his mother often, but when they did it usually dragged on for months before they worked out a resolution. He didn't want to get into one of those arguments, not now when he already had so much to deal with.

The waitress chose that moment to come back and see if they needed anything. Blair ordered an iced coffee. An uneasy silence grew between him and his mother while he thought about what he wanted to say. An image of the woman from his strange dream came unbidden to his mind, and when he finally broke the silence he led with that.

"I had a dream, my first night here. I was on a street, sometime in the past. A woman was there, with long red hair. She said her name was Bonnie, and that I had to finish what she started. She also said some things in another language, I think it was Gaelic."

"She spoke to you?" Naomi's voice was soft and almost reverent.

"Do you know who she is?"

"It's not right. It shouldn't have to be you."

"Who is she, Naomi?"

His mother sighed, and suddenly seemed to age before his eyes. Blair felt his breath catch, and part of him wished he hadn't mentioned the dream at all, not if it was going to put that beaten look on her face.

"Bonnie O'Shea. Our ancestor." Naomi poured herself another glass of wine and drank it in one gulp. "She'd been told by an old wise woman that it was her destiny to be a Guide to a Sentinel, and that this Sentinel would find her before her twentieth birthday. But he never came."

"I…what happened to her?"

"She waited, but eventually life moved on. She married a man named Jacob Sandburg. They had four children, none of whom stayed in Boston. The Sandburg's have been travelers since then. Your great-grandmother said it was as if Bonnie's children and their descendents were still looking for that Sentinel, scattering to the four winds and forever searching."

"You never told me _any_ of this," Blair accused, having trouble sorting through his feelings. Angry, hurt, surprised, amazed…he didn't know which way to go. "When I told you what that Shaman told me, you never said a _word_. Didn't you think I should know that? Jesus!"

"I never wanted that for you, Blair. You have to understand." Naomi clutched one of his hands in her, holding it tight. "The life we had was wonderful, all that traveling around. You never would have been an anthropologist without it, don't you see? And there's still so much out there to explore. If you get tied to a Sentinel, you'll be stuck in one place. Honey, that's just not _right_ for you."

"It's _my_ choice, Naomi! I can't believe you kept something this important from me. I can't _believe_ it!" Blair pulled his hand from hers.

"Think this through, sweetie," Naomi said desperately. "Bonnie was meant to be a Guide, but she lived a long and happy life without a Sentinel and so can you. If your Sentinel is a vampire, what will that mean for you? If you're his Guide, that's forever, right? Isn't that what your research indicated? He'll have to turn you. He'll have to _kill_ you."

"I can't do this with you right now." Blair stood and threw some money on the table, even though it was supposed to be his mother's treat. "I need to process all this. I'll…I'll call you."

Naomi shot to her feet, reaching out for him but finding him just a step too far away. "Blair, sweetie, please…"

"No. Not now. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

With that Blair headed out into the dark night, his head so full he thought it might explode. He had an irrational desire to find Jim, which he shrugged off. He had no idea where to find the Master during the week, since Club Doom was only open Friday through Sunday. And it scared him a little that his first thought was to find the vamp. Instead he headed back to the hotel. He needed to meditate, needed to sort through what he'd learned.

He needed to stop thinking hateful thoughts about his mother.

* * *

_**AN: **Blair certainly has a lot to process, poor boy. Shame on Naomi for keeping such important information from him. Mothers!_

_Sorry for the short chapter. I promise more exciting vamp action coming up next!_

_cháo long - Rice porridge with pork intestine, liver, gizzard, heart, and kidney. (I figure if you'll eat tongue, you'll eat just about anything, LOL! I know in the series Naomi is a vegetarian, but hey…AU!)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The Cascade Convention Center, or 3C as it was known locally, wasn't big on vampire ambiance but that was where Jim liked to conduct his weekly meetings. He had his own room there, where the windows were specially treated and the walls were soundproofed so that he was assured no-one could listen in. Every Thursday he'd meet there with local vampire business owners and others holding high positions in the community, to deal with any issues – vampire, mortal or fiscal – that had arisen since the previous meeting. Tomás was normally there as well, but VCU business kept him away this week. Once a month there was an open meeting at a larger venue for vampires and mortals to discuss business and community issues together.

There was an added benefit to conducting these business meetings during the day. Vampires were at their weakest during the daylight hours, and as such felt more comfortable gathering together when they could be assured no-one would be exercising undue power. It put them all on more equal footing, and made them more amicable.

When all the business has been discussed, and some issues tabled for the monthly meeting, everyone but Sharyn filed out of the room. Brent Collins hung back, nodding at the others as they left.

"Is there something else you needed, Brent?" Jim asked, leaning against the conference table. The other vamp was a divorce lawyer for both vamps and mortals, and had made quite a reputation for himself in Cascade.

"I am concerned about the situation in Los Angeles," Brent replied, brushing invisible bits of lint off his expensive three-piece suit. "That kind of chaos can spread like wildfire, and I know myself and some of the others would feel more at ease if the Sheriff were recalled to Cascade."

Jim fought to keep his casual pose, though he could feel his lips thinning as he pressed them together. His relationship with his Sheriff was a sore spot, a fact which wasn't lost on most of the other vamps in town.

"He's doing important work elsewhere right now, but he'll be back as soon as it can be arranged."

Brent nodded. "I hope so. See you next Thursday."

Jim closed the door and let out an angry growl. He sat back down and placed a conference call to his Sheriff.

"Master," he said, answering on the first ring. "How may I serve you?"

"You haven't checked in with me for three weeks, Brackett," Jim said, letting his annoyance show in his voice. "And you missed last month's meeting."

"I've been busy," Brackett replied. "There were a couple rogue vamps attacking hikers up here and it took me a while to track them down."

"I see." Jim rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. His Sheriff was extremely good at his job, but his disdain for his Master was always evident. It made working relations between them problematic at best, but there was no-one else who could do the job as well.

"The rogues have been neutralized. What would my master ask of me?"

"Get your ass back to Cascade. I want to see you within the week, no excuses."

"As you wish it," Brackett replied. If anyone else had been listening, they'd have assumed that the Sheriff was obedient to a fault. Sharyn, who was snickering and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the conference table, knew otherwise and she grinned at Jim.

"Don't make me come looking for you," Jim said. He ended the call and sat back in his chair with a sigh. "I wish he wasn't the best Sheriff in the Northwest; I really want to kick his ass."

"He's the best Sheriff in the West, period," Sharyn clarified. "You could always put him in lockdown until he mellows out."

"That would take too long." Jim propped his feet up on the table. "Maybe I'll just let you soften him up for me."

Sharyn's eyes gleamed at that, and he wondered who would be the survivor of that match-up if it were ever to happen. Brackett, probably, because Sharyn still had a touch of humanity left inside her; his had long ago been scrubbed away.

"Master, I would ask permission to visit the mortal Blair Sandburg." Sharyn bowed her head respectfully, though her posture was otherwise casual.

"Why do you need to meet with him?" Jim asked, curious. "Did you find something?"

"No, and that's why I'd like to see him. Nothing that I found accounts for his power. I thought maybe, if I ask the right questions…"

"Tell me what you have so far," Jim said.

"It's all pretty standard mortal stuff. He was born in 1969. Mother Naomi, no father listed on his birth certificate. He was hard to track between the age of two and sixteen because he and his mother traveled around."

"That doesn't sound too standard."

Sharyn shrugged. "His mother is some kind of hippy holdover, I guess. They spent time at communes, retreats, ashrams – whatever _that_ is – and just staying with friends. She works for the VRA now, was one of their founding members. Still traveling."

"What happened when he was sixteen?"

"Enrolled in college. NYU. He went right into the anthropology department. Got his Masters, started working on his PhD but is on sabbatical right now. That's where I found the one interesting thing about this mortal."

Jim leaned forward, sure he already knew what she was going to say. Particularly when Sharyn's expression turned somber.

"He's doing his dissertation on Sentinels. For a while he was testing other mortals, looking for one that had all five heightened senses. Then something happened and he took a leave from the university and started traveling around interviewing vampires."

"He found out," Jim said. "Somehow he found out."

"That's what I'd like to talk to him about, Master." Sharyn slid off the table and came around to Jim's chair, kneeling on the floor. "This is dangerous information, especially for a mortal who doesn't know any better. We need to find his source."

"It will have to be somewhere of his choosing," Jim said. "If he feels comfortable he'll reveal more."

"I can find out where he's staying, if he hasn't left town."

"You have my permission, Kitty." Jim put his hand on the back of her neck, fingers gently stroking the skin there. He didn't use his pet name for her often, because it was a secret, special thing between them. She smiled up at him, looking her mortal age beneath the heavy eye makeup and dark lipstick.

"Thank you, my master."

"If Blair Sandburg shows up at the club tomorrow night, and something tells me he will, it will be easy enough for you to follow him back to his hotel. But I don't want you meeting with him until the sun is up. That will make him feel more secure."

"As you wish it," Sharyn said with an anticipatory grin.

*o*o*o*

Club Doom was packed to capacity with the frenetic Friday crowd, and there was plenty for Jim to attend to. Still, a part of him was waiting to see if that familiar heart beat would come through the door. He couldn't decide if it would be a good thing or not, though the way it was distracting him wasn't good; a Master couldn't afford to lose his focus.

Kyle poked his head in the office door. "Boss, those new vamps are back to see you."

"Send them in."

Cassandra Wells strode in, dressed demurely in a light gray suit. Her curly red hair was pulled back and knotted in a loose bun. Jim knew that she'd been given the forensics job at Cascade PD on a probationary basis, and was glad that she was taking it seriously; it would be a good reflection on him.

"Master," she said, head bowed. Behind her, the equally well-dressed puppy assumed his position on the floor.

"Ms. Wells. I hear you've impressed the forensics department with your skill." Jim put his finger under her chin and tipped her head up. "This pleases me."

"Thank you, Master." She was unable to hide a smug smile. "I am enjoying the work."

"Why do you seek audience with me tonight?"

"I've found a permanent residence." Cassandra pulled some paperwork out of her purse and handed it across the desk. Jim looked it over and found it to be in order, and called Kyle in to make a copy.

"Can I play with the puppy?" Sharyn asked, squatting down next to the collared man still bent in supplication. "He's pretty."

"Go ahead," Cassandra said without turning around. "He won't bite. Unless you ask him to."

While Jim made small talk with Cassandra, asking how she was settling in and how things were going at the police department, he kept one eye on Sharyn to make sure she didn't get carried away. She seemed content just to pet the puppy, running her hands over his muscular arms and back. She wound her fingers into his thick mop of blonde hair and yanked his head back.

"So pretty."

Kyle came back with the papers, keeping the copies to file. Jim handed the originals back to Cassandra.

"I'll be around in the next couple weeks to check up on you," he said. "Keep your fangs clean."

"Thank you, Master." Cassandra turned on her heel. "Puppy."

The man got to his feet obediently and trailed after her, but not before shooting a quick grin at Sharyn.

"I want a puppy!" she said. "Can I get one of my own?"

Jim just shook his head. "You know how much work they are."

"But…"

"And you're working all the time. You'd never get to see him."

Sharyn pouted. "Master, I've been with you for ninety years. And I've never asked for anything, in all that time."

Jim laughed. "Oh, give it a rest. You're an adult, if you want a puppy we can certainly get you one."

Sharyn grew thoughtful, poking at her lip ring. "Maybe I should go see Lady Constantine. She always has a good litter of puppies for sale."

"Later." Jim cocked his head, listening as Blair entered the club. "We have some business to attend to."

"How do you want to play it?"

Jim gave that some serious thought. Compulsion seemed a no-go as far as this particular mortal was concerned, and the close physical contact hadn't been enough to scare him off either. Maybe it was time to really play up the whole vampire angle

"Give me five minutes, and then bring in a banger."

Sharyn lifted one sculpted eyebrow, but made no comment. Jim smirked and patted her on the cheek.

"Bring him in."

Jim sat in one of the wingback chairs, achieving a look that was boneless and disinterested. He needed to get into character, needed Blair Sandburg to understand that it was dangerous to be here, dangerous to keep asking questions.

"Master," Sharyn said. She came through the door with Blair in tow. Jim was instantly assaulted with his scent, which triggered the memory of his arousal and the feel of him under Jim's hands. Why had he felt the need to breathe at all? Suddenly maintaining his lackadaisical pose was much harder; not even one minute into their meeting and already he felt out of control.

"Couldn't stay away?" he asked. He was gratified to see that the mortal looked decidedly ill-at-ease; Blair's heart was racing and he was a bundle of nerves, unable to keep still.

"I was hoping we could talk."

Jim shrugged, like he didn't care if they did or not. In reality, he was sense-mapping the mortal who stood in front of him. He drank in every detail, without knowing why he felt compelled to do so. Blair sat in one of the other chairs, looking everywhere but directly at Jim.

"So…uh…I really wanted to talk to you more about the thing with the senses. It's really important, and not just for the book."

"Nothing to say about that," Jim replied. "You asked, I told you what I know. End of story."

"I know there's more." Blair looked around the room, but Sharyn had gone and it was just the two of them. "Is it safe to talk here?"

Jim just looked at him, his eyes at half mast. He wondered if feigning a yawn would be too over the top. Blair leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Look, man. I know there's a vampire who has extra senses. Non-vamp senses. And I'm pretty sure it's you. You have to trust me here. I'm not gonna use this information against you in any way. You tell me it's not you, and don't lie, and I'm out of here. I'll keep looking." He ran a hand through his curls. "But if it is you, there are some things you need to know."

Jim went very still, the only way he could keep from tensing like a bow string. He could feel the truth in the mortal's words, but experience had taught him to keep his secrets as close as his skin. Whatever motivations this man might have were not his concern.

"You seem like a good guy, Blair. So I hope you'll listen when I tell you that it's time for you to leave Cascade. The information you want you're never going to get."

"You have no idea how persistent I can be."

Jim grinned at that. "And _you_ have no idea who you're dealing with. You say you've interviewed other Masters, yet you just charge right in and ignore all the warning signs. You've learned nothing."

Blair glowered at him. "I've learned to stick to my guns. This is _the_ most important thing I've ever done in my life and I'm not giving up on it just because it's gotten difficult. Or because you think it doesn't matter."

"Whatever you think about me, you're wrong." Jim's grin grew predatory when he heard Sharyn coming with the banger. "There's nothing special about me. I'm just another bloodsucker."

"Master," Sharyn said. She came back in the office, closely followed by a young woman wearing a sheer black blouse over a black bra and a tight black skirt. There was a hungry look on her face, and the pheromones pouring off her were almost overwhelming; bangers were always ready for a good suck.

"Thank you, Sharyn. If you'll wait just outside the door?"

"As you wish."

It was just the three of them then, and Blair was looking suitably distressed. He must know what was coming and Jim was interested to see how he dealt with watching a feeding. Most mortals seemed to like the image of vamps as charming, sophisticated creatures who sipped at their SynthLife and added mysterious allure to formal functions. They were less at ease with the primal vamp need for fresh, human blood, and the act of obtaining it.

The banger knelt at Jim's feet and pulled her long blonde hair over one shoulder, bearing a slim column of neck for his approval. The signs of past feedings were present there, very clear to his eyes though mortals wouldn't see anything besides a couple faint scars. She was quivering with excitement; the Master didn't utilize bangers frequently, and it was a very big deal for one to be chosen. She'd be dining off this for weeks.

Jim ran his hand over her skin without actually touching her. It was enough to feel the heat, the movement of blood. His fangs dropped as he closed his eyes and leaned in to scent up her neck. When he opened them again and looked at Blair, the mortal was pressed back into his chair, watching with wide eyes.

"Women offer their necks more often than not," Jim murmured, his voice gone deeper with wanting. "Most men prefer the wrist or the inner arm. I'm a thigh man myself, when the situation calls for it."

He licked the banger's neck, eliciting a moan from her. She tasted of salty sweat and alcohol and Dove soap. There was a spike of arousal from Blair as well, projected with perfect clarity across the small space that separated them. Jim remembered how it had felt to touch him, and his control was lost.

He let his fangs fully extend, running his tongue over them before he pierced the skin of the banger's neck. She moaned again, louder this time, as her blood began to flow and Jim sucked it over his tongue. Warm, so warm, and so very delicious. No amount of SynthLife, even with the additives that triggered vamp pleasure centers, could match the thick, salty taste of fresh blood. Jim closed his eyes, all of his senses focused on Blair as he drank his fill. The banger, almost immediately affected by the enzymes in Jim's saliva, grew flushed with arousal under his ministrations.

"Oh, _god_," she moaned, her hands clutching Jim's legs. "_So_ good."

The scent of her blood mixed with the scent of Blair, creating a heady mixture that went straight to his groin, which was slowly hardening as he continued to drink. The banger moved one hand under her skirt, her hips hitching as she brought herself off.

Jim opened his eyes, looking up through his lashes at Blair. The mortal was watching avidly, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed over. That was not the reaction he'd been hoping to get, but it turned him on regardless. With effort, Jim pulled away from the banger, licking at her puncture wounds until the blood flow slowed and finally stopped.

The banger slumped forward onto the chair, panting heavily, as Jim stood up and stepped over her. His skin was slightly flushed, his sluggish internal systems firing up; he'd almost drunk enough to get his heart beating. He stood in front of Blair and brazenly rubbed himself through his jeans.

"You liked it. You liked watching."

Blair shook his head slowly from side to side, but Jim could easily tell that he was lying. The taking of blood could be a very sensual experience on both sides, if done properly, and right now he wanted very much to see how this powerful mortal tasted just beneath his skin. And he knew if he asked for it now, chances were good the answer would be yes.

"Sharyn," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. She came in quickly, her own eyes darkening when she scented the room; the twin smells of blood and lust were easily identifiable, even without heightened senses. With a quick lick at her lips, she escorted the still-dazed banger back out into the club.

"What does that feel like?" Blair whispered. "It looked…damn sexy."

"It's not something I can really describe," Jim replied. "You have to experience it."

Blair rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I never wanted to."

"You do now, though, don't you Chief?"

There was no response to that, and Jim nodded. He went back to his desk, putting more distance between himself and the mortal who smelled too damn good right now. He sat down and cast a quick eye over the monitors, trying to reign himself in. It was harder, after having fresh blood. Blair surprised him by coming forward and leaning on the desk.

"If I…if I let you do that. Feed from me. Would you tell me what I want to know?" His gaze stayed firmly on Jim's lips. "A one-time exchange, if you will. I can tell you want to…taste me."

There was no way Jim could deny that. This mortal affected him so strongly just by standing close, and he wondered what it would be like to taste his blood, to know him that intimately. Surely it would be better than anything else he'd experienced, though that was just surmise. Or maybe wishful thinking. It was a tempting offer.

"You've never let a vampire feed off you?" Jim asked.

Blair looked down at his hands, splayed on the desktop. "Not like that."

"The information you seek, it's that important to you? It can be addictive, you know. Just ask the bangers. Once you let a vamp feed off you, you might not be able to stop."

"No, I'm _not_ sure about it. But _yes_, it's that important to me." Blair raised his head and looked Jim in the eye. "One-time offer. And you hear me out afterwards. After that, if you still want me to leave I will. But you won't be able to get me out of Cascade until I know for sure one way or the other."

Jim was tempted to take him up on it, then and there, but he forced himself to think. He'd be riding the high from fresh blood for another few hours and it wasn't the best time for him to make an informed decision about this.

"I'll think about it," he said. "You better think about it, too. It's not a small thing you're offering me."

"I know what I'm offering," Blair insisted.

"Is there a number where I can reach you?"

"I'm staying at the Harborside Hyatt," he said. "Room 233."

Jim frowned. That wasn't information he should just be giving out, especially to a Master vampire. How had this kid survived meeting all those others? It was astonishing. On the plus side, he wouldn't have to send Sharyn out to follow him when he left.

"Go back to your hotel. Sleep on this and then think about it long and hard in the morning. I'll call you when I've made my own decision, though if it doesn't end up matching with yours we'll discuss it again."

"Okay. Yeah, I can do that." Blair straightened up and rubbed his palms on his thighs. "I don't how the hell I'm going to sleep after that, though, to be honest."

Jim chuckled. "You'll manage."

Sharyn came in to escort Blair out to his car, at Jim's insistence. When she gave him a searching look, he shook his head. No need to track the mortal. She nodded her understanding.

Once he was alone in the room, Jim sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. He rubbed himself again, more insistently. He didn't feed very often, and it seemed a shame to waste a good hard-on. He considered his choices, and decided that when Sharyn came back he'd send her in search of a willing vamp partner to spend some time with in one of the empty private rooms. Male or female, it didn't much matter to him as long as it distracted him from Blair's offer. Though he worried it would take quite a lot to distract him from Blair.

* * *

_**AN: **Jim isn't having much luck with his plans to scare Blair off. I guess he didn't count on their mutual attraction being so strong. So now the question is, will Jim accept Blair's offer, if Blair doesn't change his mind?_

_Smiles, puppy playtime was just…for…you! ::grins::_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Blair sat in his hotel room, brooding. Sleep had eluded him for most of the night, so he wasn't feeling his best. Once he'd gotten out of the club and his mind cleared, he'd been shocked at what he'd done. It wasn't like he didn't know that vamps needed to drink blood, but he was fairly certain he hadn't realized just how much they enjoyed it. And not only Jim, but the young banger hadn't seemed to be feeling any pain either. Quite the opposite, actually.

He drew his knees up and rested his forehead on them. What the hell was he getting into here? Offering to feed a vamp? And not just any vamp, but the _Master_ of the _City_. He was making the same mistakes all over again. Blair didn't look at his scarred wrist, but he could feel it just the same. He hadn't forgotten the pain of it, bright and endless. Just because Jim showed him how good it could be didn't mean that's the way it would turn out for him. But he also knew that if Jim agreed to his offer, he'd do it anyway. What had happened to him?

A knock sounded at his door and he looked over at it wearily. Was his mother back? Because he would love to see her reaction to the news that her only son had offered to let a vamp suck on him. Or maybe it was Jim, come to collect.

"Blair Sandburg. I have come to talk to you."

He didn't recognize the voice, and that finally spurred him into movement. He went to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Jim's lieutenant, the girl with the spiky hair that looked so young. Blair opened the door cautiously, wedging himself into the opening.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"The Master has given me permission to speak with you. Can we talk?"

Blair studied her for a moment, but her face gave nothing away; she barely even blinked. He wondered if he should be alarmed that she was here. The Master had absolute power in his territory, and it wouldn't be the first time one had ordered an assassination. Though usually it was against another vampire and not a mortal.

Sharyn's lip twitched in a way that was almost a smile. "I'm not here to hurt you, mortal. The Master wishes you no harm."

"I only have your word for that," Blair pointed out. "And I don't know you."

Sharyn nodded, and pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of her black leather trench coat. She pressed one number and waited. Blair had no doubt who she was calling.

"Master. I'm with Blair Sandburg. He's concerned you've marked him for elimination. Yes. Okay." She held the phone out, her smirk more pronounced.

Blair took the phone. "Hey, Jim."

_You're not marked for murder, Sandburg._

"I have your word on that?"

_The word of the Master of the City of Cascade, for whatever that's worth._

"It's good enough for me, I guess. Thanks."

Blair handed the phone back to Sharyn, who listened for a moment before hanging up.

"Where would you be comfortable talking?"

"The restaurant downstairs, if you don't mind. I haven't had breakfast yet."

Sharyn nodded her agreement and waited patiently while Blair made himself presentable for public. They shared an uncomfortable silence in the elevator, Blair sneaking glances at her via her reflection in the doors. Beneath the long coat she wore knee-high black boots, fishnet stockings, and what looked like a vintage pair of hotpants circa 1972. Strangers would either peg her as a call girl or a vamp in that outfit. They certainly made an odd couple, with him wearing flannel over a green Henley and jeans with holes in the knees.

When they got to the restaurant Blair chose a table in the corner, where they wouldn't be easily overheard. Sharyn clearly approved, and sat with her back to the wall, scanning the room. Blair ordered a western omelet and hot tea.

"Anything for you?" the waitress asked Sharyn, a faint look of distaste on her face.

"One hardboiled egg and a Bloody Mary."

Blair looked at her, surprised.

"What? I can't eat?" Sharyn shook out her napkin and draped it demurely on her lap.

"Oh, uh…I didn't think you needed to," he stammered.

"I don't _need_ to. I _like_ to, sometimes. It helps put people at ease."

"Are you trying to put _me_ at ease?"

"Of course."

Blair toyed with his silverware. The waitress came with their drinks, and he was glad to have something better to do with his hands. This was not how he'd expected to start his day.

"So…what did you want to talk about?"

"I've done a background check on you," Sharyn said. "I had some questions."

Blair appreciated her candor, and didn't know why he was surprised that Jim was checking up on him; after all, the Master of the City needed to know who was moving around in his territory.

"I'm not sure I have anything to tell you. My life is pretty much an open book." He sipped his tea. "Ask away."

"What's an ashram?"

Blair choked as his tea went down the wrong pipe. "_What?_"

Sharyn grinned. "I've never heard of that, I'd like to know what it is."

"Oh. Uh…it's a kind of spiritual retreat. My mother and I spent a week at one during a trip to India when I was ten."

"You traveled a lot."

Blair shrugged. "My mother is a free spirit. The original flower child. She's never been able to settle down anywhere and I just went along for the ride."

"And it was during this time that you first heard about Sentinels?"

"I don't…" he started to say, and then the waitress came with their food. Blair didn't realize how hungry he was until that steaming omelet was set in front of him. He tucked in while Sharyn tapped delicately at the shell on her hardboiled egg.

"I love these," she said. "The egg white is so soft and slick, and then you get to the yolk and it's so rich and textured. I enjoy dichotomy in my food."

"And blood?"

"Sweet and salty. You watched the Master feed last night, you saw it. Pain and pleasure." Sharyn sipped her Bloody Mary. "You've spent years searching for a Sentinel. Why is it so important for you to find one?"

Blair wrenched his mind back from images of Jim at that banger's neck. "It's personal. I'll talk to Jim about it, but not to you. No offense."

"None taken." Sharyn bit her egg in half, a slow smile spreading across her face as she chewed. "So much pleasure from such a small thing."

"You've been with him for a long time," Blair said. He pushed the remains of his omelet around on the plate. "You know he's a Sentinel."

"What I know or don't know is of no concern to you. No offense."

It was Blair's turn to grin. "None taken."

"You found something, talked to someone. There's a reason you suspect a vampire is the Sentinel you seek. The Master would very much like to know your source. As you might understand, this is delicate information. If other vampires thought one of their own had some sort of mystical upper hand, there would be…unpleasantness."

"I know that. I've been as circumspect as possible in my interviews. I've never called the Sentinel by name." He set down his fork and worried at his napkin. "I don't want to make trouble for anyone. I just need to know. It's important to me."

"Did you mean it when you offered yourself to the Master?"

"I did at the time."

"And now?" Sharyn pulled the celery from her drink and sucked on it provocatively. "Are you retracting your offer?"

"Well, I…no. No I'm not." Blair took a deep breath. "I want to know, and I'll do what it takes to get the information I need."

"That sounds very obsessive to me, Blair Sandburg. I've been told that's an unhealthy thing."

"It is what it is. I've read through every dust-covered book between here and Katmandu, talked to countless holy men, shamans and tribal chieftans, all in the search for someone that isn't supposed to exist. Yeah, I've gotten a bit obsessed with it, I admit that. An unhealthy focus for sure. But I _know_ he's out there, and I'm pretty sure he's Jim Ellison."

Sharyn nodded. "You have strong convictions. That's admirable. But you need to understand this. I owe my second life and my loyalty to the Master of the City, and would willingly give up the first to prove the second. Even if I were not his lieutenant, I would protect him from those that seek him harm."

Blair heard the threat in her words and took them seriously. He honestly didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all Jim. The connection he'd felt to the vamp was frightening in its intensity, but he was willing to explore that, to find out why. If only Jim would give him the chance.

"How long have you been with the Master?" Blair asked, curious.

Sharyn shook her head. "Vampires are not like mortals. We don't share our life stories with others. My past belongs to me and no-one else. If the Master wishes to tell you his part in mine that is his choice."

"You won't be part of the registry then?"

"No. And neither will the Master. Vampires lives are long, and blood-soaked. Knowledge is power, as you surely must know. And there is no good reason to give another vampire power over me." Sharyn tossed back the rest of her Bloody Mary and licked at her lips. "The Master will contact you when he is ready. Stay available."

She stood and threw enough money on the table to cover tax and tip, and then she was gone in a swirl of leather. Blair continued to sit at the table, nursing his tea. The young vamp was certainly a good choice of lieutenant for the Master of the City, though some would derisively call it blind devotion. He couldn't help but wonder how the two of them had hooked up; surely there was a story there.

*o*o*o*

_Jim moved through the crowd, the lights and sounds already giving him a headache. He didn't know why Antoine had insisted on coming up to Baton Rouge for the weekend, much less the necessity of attending this backwoods carnival. He'd much rather have been at their home in New Orleans, re-reading Call of the Wild. It was difficult, being shoulder to shoulder with so many mortals, and for a moment he wished they were back at the monastery in Scotland._

_ "James! Ah, there you are mon ami." Antoine appeared in front of him, grinning under his stylish bowler hat. He was sturdy and big-boned, green eyes twinkling. "It is marvelous, is it not?"_

_ "My head is aching, Antoine. I do not wish to stay." Jim plucked at the uncomfortably itchy sleeves of his blazer. "I would very much like to go home."_

_ Antoine patted him on the cheek. "Do not be petulant, James. You must get used to being around people, oui? In any case, there is a show we must see. Come, I have already purchased our tickets. Allons-y!"_

_ Jim followed with a sigh. He'd felt out of step with the world since he'd been turned, especially given his long absence from civilized society. So much had changed in the last fifty years – men were taking to the skies in aeroplanes, and automobiles filled the roads in place of horses and carriages. His own home had become a state in his absence and he found the longing for it an almost painful thing, though he wasn't ready to ask about visiting._

_ Antoine led him to the rear of the carnival, where a large tent had been erected. The canvas was painted with all manner of oddities, including a unicorn and a man with two heads. The banner above the entrance said Le Cirque Fantastique._

_ "A sideshow? This is the reason we traveled so far?"_

_ "Trust me, mon ami."_

_ And of course Jim did, as much as one vampire could trust another. He followed Antoine through the canvas and inside the tent, where wooden folding chairs had been set up facing a small raised stage. He took a quick sniff of the air and was immediately thankful he didn't have to breathe it, laced as it was with the stench of mortal sweat and unwashed bodies._

_ Antoine led them to seats right in the front row, and let Jim have the aisle so that he wouldn't have to sit beside a mortal. His bloodlust was a thing of the past, or so he sincerely hoped, but some days it took all his strength to keep it so._

_ "This is a ten-in-one, James. We are here for the final act, though you should feel free to enjoy the other nine." Antoine put a hand on his shoulder. "You are doing fine, mon garçon. Relax."_

_ Jim closed his eyes and practiced his stillness. He pushed away the sounds as much as he could, and had actually begun to drift just a bit when the show started. When he opened his eyes again, he noted with amusement that Antoine was literally on the edge of his seat. For such an old vampire, he sometimes had the mind of a child._

_ "Mesdames and messieurs. Welcome to Le Cirque Fantastique." A tall, thin man in a top hat came out on the stage, dressed in a three piece suit that was normal in all ways except color – it was bright purple. "If you are weak of stomach or heart, please take this opportunity to distance yourself from the amazing, unnatural acts that you are about to see."_

_ Jim supposed he couldn't hope for a nice hootchy cooch show. This proved true when the first act appeared on stage, announced as the Amazing Punjab, Indian Fakir from Foreign Lands. An emaciated-looking man in a dirty turban sat cross-legged on a bed of nails, though none pierced his skin. Punjab began to play something that resembled a recorder, though it bulged out oddly midway down, and from the basket in front of him came a swaying snake._

_ "The nails are so densely spaced they do not damage the flesh. Do you see?" Antoine whispered in his ear._

_ Jim took a closer look and saw that his friend was right. A crafty trick. He was curious about the snake, but had no interest in examining that; he didn't like snakes. Punjab finished with a flourish and a bow, and the next act was ushered on stage while Jim wondered what the final act could be. He sat through Yang the Contortionist, Fat Sally, Enrico the Sword Swallower, the Human Worm, Timmy the Dog-Faced Boy, the Human Skeleton, Lydia the Tattooed Midget, and Aldo the Ugliest Dog in the World. For his money, Jim was most intrigued by Lydia; the tattoo work was lovely, and he would have enjoyed the chance to see more of it._

_ "C'est parti, here we go," Antoine whispered excitedly. The final act._

_ Even before it was announced, Jim straightened in his seat. He was suddenly on alert, though he wasn't sure why. He could feel Antoine staring at him, and then the other vamp's lips were moving almost soundlessly against his ear._

_ "You sense it, do you not ma sentinelle? A member of your tribe in need?"_

_ "I sense…something," Jim murmured uncertainly. "Something is wrong."_

_ The man in the purple suit once again took center stage. "Our final wonder of the night, mesdames and messieurs, is certain to thrill and terrify you. Once again, I urge you to take your leave if you have a weak constitution."_

_ Of course no-one left. If anything, the crowd seemed to lean forward as one, eagerly awaiting the final amazing act in this show of oddities. Jim concentrated, and suddenly he knew, even before they rolled the cage out, and he snapped a wide-eyed look at Antoine, who only nodded._

_ "Behold, Vampirella the Blood-Sucking Girl!"_

_ The cage was approximately six feet long and four foot high, not large enough for the thin, raggedy girl inside to stand erect. Jim could see that the bars were made of silver, not steel, making it an effective prison for the young vampire. Her face was dirty, her clothes little more than rags. She was huddled in the corner, eyes wild and angry, and someone behind the cage prodded her forward with a stick._

_ "Not now, James," Antoine said mildly, keeping a hand firmly on his leg when he tried to get up._

_ "We have to get her out of there," Jim hissed. The urge to protect this unknown vampire was impossibly strong._

_ "Later. Remember where you are."_

_ On stage, a live dove was shoved through the bars of the cage. The hunger on the girl's face was painful to see and Jim had no doubt they were starving her between shows, keeping her hungry. Even so, she didn't seem to want to do what she was supposed to, earning her another sharp jab in the back. Hunger eventually won out and she snatched up the hapless bird and ripped its head off in her frenzy to drink its blood. _

_ There were screams from the audience at this display, and the cage was hastily rolled away before things got out of hand. Just before she disappeared from sight, blood dripping down her chin, her eyes met Jim's and he almost went into a rage when he saw the pain in them._

_ "Calm yourself, James." Antoine stood. "The show is over, now we may go back and negotiate with the owner."_

_ "How did you know she was here?"_

_ "I have connections, mon ami. As you will begin to develop now that we are back in the country of your birth and rebirth."_

_ "We are not leaving without her," Jim said flatly. _

_ "Of course not," Antoine said soothingly, leading him back out of the tent and around the back. "We will negotiate and if that does not work, other methods will regrettably need to be enforced."_

_ "I will do what's necessary," Jim replied. And for the first time since becoming a vampire, he meant that in all sincerity. His companion nodded approvingly._

_ "It is in your nature, ma sentinelle, to protect the weaker of your tribe. You see an injustice being done and you want to right it. That is as it should be."_

_ Behind the sideshow tent was a stand of trees and a narrow path that led behind them to the camp where the carnival people had set up their tents and trailers. There was one small, two-wheeled trailer that had a sign out front indicating it was an office. Antoine led the way up the three steps to the door, upon which he knocked briskly. A voice from within told them to enter and they did so, ducking down a bit in the small space._

_ The trailer was filled with a desk, a chair, a wooden cabinet, and a bed against the far wall. Sitting behind the desk was the man in the purple suit, counting the take from the night's performance._

_ "Help you?" he asked._

_ "How much for the vampire girl?" Antoine asked, dispensing with the usual pleasantries. Jim stood stiffly at his side, hands fisted. The man in the suit looked up at them._

_ "Not for sale."_

_ "Where did she come from?" Jim asked, his voice tight with restrained anger. "How did you come to have her?"_

_ The man took a closer look at them then, and visibly paled. "Ah…her maker sold her to me. Told me how to keep her."_

_ Now it was Antoine who grew angry, and Jim knew it was because of the betrayal of the young vampire. Jim's own maker viewed that relationship as sacred and to have it defiled so was unforgiveable._

_ "Do you have the name of the man who sold her?"_

_ "No. I swear! He never gave me his name. Hers either."_

_ "We'll be taking her with us," Jim said._

_ "But…but she's my headliner!" the man stammered._

_ Antoine nodded. "James, go see to the girl. I will talk this gentleman into a fair purchase price." _

_ "I'll need the key," Jim said. The man in the purple suit handed it over with a trembling hand._

_ The cage with the silver bars was tucked into a far corner of the camp, as far away from the others as was possible. Jim approached it warily, spying the drained dove carcass on the ground nearby. The girl had heard him coming and was crouched defensively in the middle of the cage, looking like a feral cat as she bared her fangs at him._

_ "Easy, kitty cat," Jim said softly. "I'm here to help you. Do you want to get out of there?"_

_ The girl just watched him, her eyes following every small movement he made. He wished he knew who her maker was, so he could kill him. As if turning someone so young wasn't bad enough, but then to sell her to a sideshow? He had vowed, after being turned himself, that he would never do that to anyone. Ever. Antoine told him he'd feel differently someday, but Jim knew otherwise._

_ "I have the key, and I'll let you out. But I want you to come quietly, no fighting. No biting. Nice and easy, okay?" He held up the key and the girl threw herself at the bars, one arm reaching out to grab at it and the other wrapped around one silver bar and sizzling with the contact._

_ "Good God, back up!"_

_ The girl stumbled backwards, holding her injured hand to her chest. All vampires had some measure of self-healing ability, and Jim hoped it wouldn't take long for the blisters to slough off her palm and fingers. In the meantime, he knew it must hurt from the way she was mewling. He hurriedly unlocked the cage, using a handy stick to pull the door open._

_ "Be a nice girl, kitty cat. Come on out." Jim tried to use his most coaxing voice, but the girl just glared at him. "Do you want to come home with me? My friend Antoine is here too, and we have a pretty house in New Orleans, in the Garden District. We even have a garden, though it's not very big. And a wrap-around porch with big chairs. Antoine has access to real blood, mortal blood. You can have some whenever you like. We'll take care of you."_

_ The more he talked, the less tense the girl seemed until she finally eased out of the cage and crouched down on the ground, fingers tightening in the grass. Jim wondered how long she'd been in there, then decided it was probably best that he didn't know; he was angry enough already. He got down to her level, keeping his voice even and soothing._

_ "Come with us, kitty cat. You can have your own room, with a bed. I have a lot of books, do you know how to read? If you don't, I can teach you. Antoine will buy you some new clothes. We won't ever make you do anything you don't want to do, I promise."_

_ The girl retracted her fangs and crawled closer to Jim. He thought she'd be quite pretty once she was all washed up and her mousy brown hair was tidied. He could sense Antoine watching from a distance, not wanting to interrupt, and hoped he was listening as well. Jim wasn't about to break any of the promises he was making. He held out his hand._

_ "Will you come with us? Will you let me help you?"_

_ In response the girl crawled between his knees and rested her head on his chest, letting out a world-weary sigh and collapsing with exhaustion. Jim wrapped his arms around her, feeling how frail she was and promising to fatten her back up._

_ "Let's go home, kitty cat."_

* * *

_**AN: **__I hope you enjoyed this look into Sharyn's past, which is Jim's as well. After all, it was the first time he let the protective nature of the Sentinel take over. This chapter is for you, Smiles2Go, because I know how much you love a good Cirque. ::winks::_

_This chapter also comes with apologies to those of my readers who, after being tantalized with the idea of Jim having a good feed off Blair, were hoping for some hot and heavy action. Not yet, my friends. But soon! Don't make me pluck you off the ceiling, WitchWarren! LOL!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Jim had done nothing for the last two days but think of Blair's offer. He didn't understand the obsession that drove the mortal, though Sharyn admired his resolve and passion even if she didn't approve of his single-mindedness. Jim couldn't help but agree on that point; whenever you let your focus narrow down like that, you started to miss the bigger picture. That's how people ended up dead. Or worse.

There was no doubt in his mind that taking blood from Blair would be a very bad idea. Every plan he'd had to chase the mortal away had backfired spectacularly; clearly there was something else at play here, though he couldn't begin to guess what that may be, and that's what he found so worrying. Jim couldn't defend against an unknown enemy. And yet…yet he could almost taste the mortal's sweet-salty blood on his tongue. It had been a very long time since he'd wanted something so badly, and he wasn't used to denying himself.

He sprawled on his sofa considering the problem for a good many hours while Sharyn went through her Tai Chi routine and then worked the heavy bag in the corner. His lieutenant did stillness very well but given the choice she preferred to be in motion, though there always had to be a reason behind it. There could often be a purpose to stillness as well, but Jim had had his fill of that now.

"I think I'll go out for the evening," he decided.

Sharyn steadied the bag with one hand and looked at him over her shoulder. "Do I need to ask where?"

"Bring the Jeep," Jim replied. He liked tooling around downtown in the Wranger, which was more suited to off-roading. It was black and completely tricked out, and all of Cascade recognized it on sight.

Sharyn sighed but did as she was told. Not only would she bring the Jeep up from the basement garage but she'd tell security that the Master was going out; they would tag along discreetly but only his lieutenant would remain in close physical proximity.

Jim took special care dressing, as he didn't want Blair to feel ill at ease with him. Not if the night ended the way a part of him sincerely hoped it would. He dug through his downstairs closet until he found his oldest, most comfortable pair of blue jeans, and topped them with a black silk shirt. By the time Sharyn had rejoined him she'd showered and changed as well; she wore a tailored black suit with wide legs and an emerald green shirt.

"Nice," Jim commented.

"I assume we'll be dining out."

"You assume correctly. We'll call Le Monde on the way and reserve a table." That was merely a considerate gesture on his part, because Jim could have a table at any restaurant in the greater Cascade area at any time; another perk of position and one he didn't mind exploiting.

He cruised down the main drag, taking his time and letting himself be seen. Normally he didn't care to put himself on display but tonight he was in that kind of mood. He had no doubt the local papers would have a full accounting of the evening's activities, with photos, on the newsstands in the morning. It would please the Regent as well, as one of his latest mandates had been for more public face time.

It didn't take long to get the Hyatt, which had lovely views of the harbor if you were able to afford the additional cost of the rooms on that side of the hotel. Jim knew from Sharyn's report that Blair's room had a view of Lower Traction Avenue, which was less than picturesque. Then again, it wasn't like the mortal was in town for the scenery.

He pulled into the parking lot and took the space nearest the lobby doors. As the Jeep idled, he closed his eyes and listened; in an unnervingly short amount of time he'd picked out one heart beat from the mass of others inside the hotel.

"He's headed for the hotel restaurant."

"Better go rescue him," Sharyn advised. "The eggs were good but I don't believe the Hyatt is well known for their other culinary delights."

Jim intercepted his target at the entrance to the restaurant. The hostess' eyes widened when she saw him but he just waved her off. He was more interested in Blair's reaction, which was of poorly concealed surprise and anxiety.

"Jim. Hey. I, uh…wasn't expecting to see you."

"I've come to take you to dinner, Sandburg." His senses stretched out of their own accord, mapping the man in front of him down to the tiniest detail; he didn't bother trying to fight it.

"Oh. Well, if you're buying how can I say no?" Outwardly Blair seemed completely at ease but Jim could see beneath that. The mortal was giving off an interesting mixture of apprehension and anticipation, no doubt assuming that the Master had come to collect on the blood promise. Jim couldn't deny that he was thinking along those lines himself, though he believed in keeping his options open and seeing how things went.

"My car is outside." He nodded at the flustered hostess and put a hand on Blair's back, directing him to the door.

"Where are we going?"

"I have a table at Le Monde."

Blair's surprise and pleasure were clearly telegraphed. "Swanky! So…just dinner then?"

"For a start. We'll see how things go."

Sharyn was leaning casually against the Jeep when they came out of the Hyatt. "Good evening, Blair Sandburg."

"Sharyn," Blair replied with a grin. "Are you joining us?"

"I'm here only as the Master's bodyguard," she said solemnly. "We ride together, but I will not be dining with you."

"I don't mind if you want to."

Sharyn glanced at Jim, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in amusement. "I think not, though I thank you."

"Well, you're welcome. And by the way, you look really nice. The suit works for you. Not as much as the hot pants, but maybe that's just me."

"It's just you," Jim agreed. "Get in."

Sharyn rode up front but Blair didn't seem to mind. He sat in the back, vacillating between excitement and nerves; Jim tracked the changes in his heart rate, his breathing, and the subtle shifts in his body chemistry. There was no need for the three of them to keep up a conversation – Blair managed that all on his own.

"Le Monde is a four star restaurant, right? I saw an ad for it on TV. I hope I'm dressed up enough. I've heard reservations have to be booked three months in advance. Well, that must be a perk of being Master of the City. I've always found it interesting how those perceived to be in a position of power or influence are catered to, like cops getting free coffee or meals just because they're cops."

Sharyn twisted in her seat so she could look back. "You seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice."

Jim laughed, though the truth was that he enjoyed listening to Blair speak. The words didn't matter; it was like there was another layer of sound that only he could hear, and it soothed his nerves. Normally he had no tolerance for useless chatter but there was nothing this mortal did that Jim didn't respond to.

"Sorry. I tend to run off at the mouth when I'm nervous."

"Does fine dining intimidate you?" Sharyn asked.

Blair snorted. "No. But being whisked away by the two of you does."

"I appreciate your honesty," Jim said, catching Blair's gaze in the review mirror. "You have nothing to worry about, Sandburg."

"I think we both know that's not true," the mortal muttered.

Jim let that comment go, since he couldn't disagree with it. They arrived at Le Monde moments later and he turned over the Jeep to a very enthusiastic valet. Sharyn preceded them inside, quickly scanning for any trouble. The maître d', a thin man with an even thinner moustache, quickly seated Jim and Blair in a booth that was both cozy and highly visible to the rest of the dining room. Sharyn sat at a small table nearby where she could keep an eye on things.

Blair took everything in, eyes moving ceaselessly around the room. Le Monde was richly appointed, the wood dark cherry and gleaming in the intimate lighting. The booth was plush leather in a dark shade of brown. Pots of leafy green plants were strategically placed around the room to give the illusion of privacy.

The sommelier came to their table but Jim ignored the wine list; he knew what he liked and assumed that Blair wouldn't mind. "A bottle of 1982 Chateau Margaux, s'il vous plaît."

"Very good, Monsieur."

"Tu parlez Français," Blair said, smiling.

There was no reason for Jim to feel so pleased that the mortal also spoke French, but it didn't change the fact that he felt did. "Oui. Je parle Français très bien. Et vous?"

"Assez bien ordonner de la bière à Paris."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Have you had much opportunity to order beer in Paris?"

"I've traveled quite a bit, which you already know. Being an Anthropology major, I learned how to order beer and ask the way to the restroom in several languages."

"I can see where it would be helpful to learn those concurrently," Jim said. He had a sudden yearning to whisk Blair away, take him to a real French meal in Avignon, right on the Rhone. The last time he'd been there was with Antoine, back in the late 1890s; shortly before moving back to the States. For the briefest moment he was swamped with longing for his long-dead Maker. He knew Antoine would get a real kick out of Blair, and possibly out of the whole situation he now found himself in.

The waiter came and took their orders. Jim requested only red pepper bisque, his usual, but he encouraged his dinner guest to go all out. Blair obliged him by getting an order of escargots with garlic and parsley butter for a starter, and foie de veau for his entrée.

"So…why all this?" Blair asked, sipping at his wine. "You didn't need to go to all this trouble."

"It's only dinner, Sandburg. Unlike myself, I know you need to eat." Jim stretched one arm along the top of the booth. "Nothing wrong with eating well."

"I suppose not," he replied dubiously. "I feel kind of funny eating a full meal when you're only having soup."

"It's more than I need. And watching you enjoy your meal will please me." Jim took a mouthful of wine and held it there, not swallowing, opening his sense of taste up to fully enjoy the rich flavor. Another gift from Antoine, the appreciation of fine wines; he'd certainly not been a connoisseur back in his Army days in the wilds of Washington Territory. As many reasons as he had to hate the man who turned him, he was just as thankful for the things he'd gained.

"How did you become interested in Anthropology?" he asked just as the waiter returned with the escargots. Blair leaned over the dish, breathing appreciatively before responding.

"My mother and I traveled extensively when I was a kid." He used a small set of tongs to grab hold of a shell, and a tiny fork to pull the meat out. "There were so many differences, so many ways one tradition varied between peoples. Even when I was very young I found it all very fascinating."

Blair dipped the meat in the sauce and popped it into his mouth. Jim couldn't help wondering how it all tasted to a mortal palette; he himself had not had occasion to try escargot until he'd been made a vampire and he didn't care for them.

"And Sentinels?"

"Sentinels." Blair dragged another small piece of meat through the garlic butter. "There are remarkable similarities even among the most disparate groups. I started collecting Sentinel stories when I was about six years old. There was mythology on the subject in Africa, South America, even in the more remote regions of Canada. For whatever reason, it really captured my imagination."

And it had never let go, as far as Jim could tell. He couldn't begin to understand being that focused on one thing for so many years. At least not as a mortal, when they had so few years to start with. He sipped at his wine to keep from asking more questions about Sentinels; there would be time for that and this wasn't the place, no matter how curious he was. Antoine had never been particularly forthcoming with information on the subject, and Jim suspected he hadn't known as much about it as he'd let on.

"How about you?" Blair asked, turning the tables. "How did you get to be Master of the City of Cascade? Was that something you wanted?"

"I was appointed Sheriff to the former Master of the City. My maker had pulled some strings, used his connections because he knew how much I'd missed the Territory."

"You served in the Army here?"

Jim nodded, not surprised that Blair had done his research. "I served at Fort Cascades. After I was turned, it was a half century before I came back. I'd thought I was comfortable living a quiet existence, but once I had a purpose, a job to do, I was…more content, I guess you could say."

Antoine had somehow sensed that in him, knew what Jim needed even when he didn't know it himself. He'd balked at becoming Sheriff, but it had turned out to be the right choice. It was a Sentinel directive, or so he'd been told – the need to protect others.

Blair looked at him, his gaze focused and unwavering. "And it was a natural step up the ladder, to go from Sheriff to Master? You're certainly able to do more good now."

"Yes. When it became clear that the former Master was no longer suited for the position, I was the best choice to take over." What didn't bear mentioning was the bloody three month struggle for the title of Master, and the bodies he'd had to step on to get there. Then again, nothing worth having was ever achieved easily.

"Why do I get the feeling it wasn't that simple?"

"There's always a rough transition period," Jim said dismissively. "The same as any other corporate takeover."

"Right." Blair rolled his eyes, then pushed his plate of empty shells away when the waiter came with the entrées. "Why the bisque?"

Jim dipped his spoon in the thick orange-red soup. "I appreciate the texture, and the sharp flavor of the red peppers."

"And you're more suited to liquid meals, right?" the mortal quipped. He began slicing into his calf's liver, which rested on a bed of lyonnaise potatoes and sautéed onions. "Does food taste different to you now?"

"Yes." Jim took a mouthful of the bisque, savoring it a moment before he swallowed; he didn't eat mortal food often. "Becoming a vampire changes your taste buds. Things I once enjoyed would likely taste like ashes to me now."

"Man, that sucks. I mean, I'm not exactly an epicurean by any means, but I do enjoy eating." Blair loaded his fork with meat and potatoes and studied it for a moment before sliding it into his mouth.

"With all the traveling you've done you must've tried some interesting things," Jim noted. He poured them both more wine. "Is there anything you _don't_ eat?"

"I've never been real fond of beets, but most everything else is fair game. I've eaten grubs, haggis, tripe, squid, Big Macs…I learned early on not to be too picky."

"I can see that."

Blair grinned at him. "How about you? Was it difficult, getting used to drinking blood?"

Jim heard a snort of amusement from Sharon. "There's no getting used to anything. A newly turned vamp feels only an all-consuming hunger, and once that finally gets sated the taste of blood is like honey to them."

The mortal nodded, chewing slowly. A comfortable silence spread between them while they focused on their meals and Jim marveled at how easy it was between the two of them. Blair had gotten over his initial awkwardness and proven to be an interesting dinner companion. There was no doubt in his mind now that they'd end up back at Jim's place. Le Monde had an excellent dessert menu, but what he wanted wouldn't come around on the little cart.

Blair pushed his plate away, leaving only half a potato and one limp onion. "Man, that was really good. I'm stuffed."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Jim said. He signaled the waiter, who came to clear their plates away. "Did you want some dessert?"

"No thanks. I honestly couldn't eat so much as a wafer thin mint at this point." Blair chuckled, but Jim didn't get the joke. No matter. He inclined his head at Sharon; she would take care of settling the bill. He had no compunction about snatching a good table on a whim, but he always paid full price for his meals.

"I would very much like to bring you back to my place," he said, leaning back a bit in his chair. "I could offer you coffee or tea. And a chance to discuss…other matters."

The mortal took a deep breath, but all the signals coming off him were positive. "I think I would like that."

Anticipation moved along Jim's skin. The thought of having Blair in his home, amongst his personal things, in his personal space, was far more titillating than it should have been. He had to force himself to stay calm, to not look too eager and rush things.

"Shall we?" He stood and Sharyn was at his side in an instant.

"Home, Master?"

"Yes." Jim handed her the valet ticket for the Jeep. "Call ahead. I want everyone cleared out of the third floor."

"As you wish it, Master." She turned on her heel and swung her hips all the way to the door, giving the mortal men a little show. Blair chuckled.

"She's something."

"You have no idea." Jim waited for Blair to slide out of the booth, and put a hand on the small of the mortal's back to guide him to the door. The heat of his skin was tantalizingly close; he could feel it bleeding through the thin material of Blair's shirt. Suddenly it wasn't just blood he was after, but the desire to feel that warm, living skin wrapped around him. Jim hastily removed his hand, and covered by grabbing the door and holding it open.

"I have to admit I'm pretty curious," Blair said. "I've never been to the home of a Master."

"Most would not permit it," Jim admitted. "A Master's private sanctuary is a closely guarded secret for many reasons."

"I can imagine. I promise, Jim, I won't do anything to betray the trust you've put in me."

He looked down at the young mortal, whose sincerity shone from his deep blue eyes, and nodded. "I know."

Sharyn stood by the Jeep, holding the door open so that Blair could climb into the back. "Did you enjoy your meal, Blair Sandburg?"

"I sure did. Thanks."

The drive back to the Loft was a quiet one, but Jim didn't mind. He knew Sharyn wasn't in agreement about letting the mortal into their home, but she understood why he felt the need to do so. If he was going to take blood from this man, he didn't want to do it at the club or some random public venue. It was an intimate act, and with his emotions getting added into the mix he wanted to keep it as personal as possible.

He could sense Blair's surprise when they pulled up to 852 Prospect, which from the outside looked like a refurbished warehouse that had started to go to seed. Jim pulled the Jeep around to the side entrance and down to the underground garage. The guard on duty raised the gate and let him drive through.

"Are these all yours?" Blair asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

"The Master has an affinity for automobiles," Sharyn replied.

There were many of them, the bright overhead lights gleaming off shiny paint jobs. In addition to the Jeep and the Porsche, he also kept a '77 Dodge Charger, a '65 Lamborghini, a '64 Ford Mustang, a '60 Rolls Royce Phantom, and a '58 Plymouth Fury. Tucked away behind heavier security was his very first car, a 1906 DeWitt high wheeler. It didn't run anymore but Jim found himself unwilling to part with it.

"Someone likes to drive fast," Blair remarked.

"Best invention ever," Jim said. He pulled in the spot designated for the Jeep. Sharyn hopped right out and made a beeline for the elevator, which needed a passcode to operate. Blair climbed out more slowly and looked around with his mouth open.

"Man, these are beauties. Before I went to NYU I had an old Corvair. They don't make cars like _that_ anymore."

"What do you have now?" Jim asked, honestly curious.

Blair shrugged. "Nothing. Living in the city, it really doesn't make much sense to have one. The cost of garage space is so high; it's cheaper to just take public transportation."

Not having a car? Jim couldn't even stand to contemplate it. One of the up sides to being a vamp was having had access to such a broad range of vehicles over the years. It was honestly one of the things he was most looking forward to in the years to come, seeing the ways that improvements would be made to existing models.

He waited while Blair explored, then they walked together towards the elevator. Jim used his bypass code to get them straight to the third floor; normally it stopped on two, where the security hub was located. When the bell dinged and the doors opened, he couldn't resist sweeping his arm out with a bit more flair than would normally be warranted.

"Blair Sandburg, welcome to my home."

* * *

_**AN: **So, Blair has been wined and dined, and now he's at Jim's place...so you know what's going to be coming up soon! But before those festivities begin, I believe we'll have Jim's vamp backstory. After all, he promised. ::grins::_

_Thanks for the reviews, and sticking with me even though it took me forever to update this. I'm hopefully getting back in the swing of things now. Stay tuned!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Blair crossed the threshold into Jim's home, feeling the weight of the moment as he did so; there would be no turning back now. He told himself there would be time to worry about that later, because now he was overcome with curiosity to see what kind of place the Master of the City of Cascade called home. As with everything else about this particular vamp, nothing was as expected.

The building had looked a bit run down from the outside, but he could see now that was just camouflage. The inside space was gorgeous – lots of exposed wood, natural but lacquered to a glossy sheen, and the overall color scheme was reflective of the Cascades themselves – mossy greens and earthy browns with splashes of blue and red as accents. One wall was lined with windows, and a door that led to a balcony. A corner was occupied by a thick mat on the floor and a heavy bag bolted to one of the exposed beams.

"This is a great space," Blair said. It was spare, not a lot of furniture, but what was there was high quality. The kitchen was well-appointed, with gleaming granite countertops, and he wondered if Jim ever had cause to use it. There was a staircase leading up to what he assumed was the bedroom, and directly below that a wall covered ceiling almost to floor with photographs. The frames were eclectic, mixing wood, glass and metal. Even more interesting were the subjects.

"Is this you?" he asked, getting closer. In the very center of the wall was a small daguerreotype of a family – father, mother and two sons. If it was Jim, he couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen.

"Yes," Jim replied from the kitchen. He put a tea kettle on the stove and took two mugs out of one of the cabinets.

It was almost more than Blair could fathom, that someone from such an old photograph could still be walking around. He looked at the others and saw they were a visual history of Jim's life, mostly after he had become a vampire though there was one other daguerreotype of him in his Army uniform. Some of the photos were hard to date, while others had clothing or cars that gave clues, such as a photograph of Jim standing proudly next to the that old car Blair had seen in the garage.

"This one was taken in Paris," Jim said, suddenly appearing behind Blair and leaning over his shoulder. "1889, if memory serves."

Blair fought the urge to lean back against the vamp, struggling to keep his attention focused on the picture he was pointing to. Jim stood in front of a partially constructed landmark, dressed in a long black coat. "Is that the Eiffel Tower?"

"They were building it for the World's Fair. I was also there when the Space Needle was built for the '62 World's Fair."

"You've seen so much history," Blair said, turning and trying to put a little space between them. "I wish more vamps went into Anthropology, we could learn so much."

"There's a downside to everything, Sandburg. Even eternal life." Jim moved forward until they were almost close enough to touch, chest to chest. "Your experiences are more meaningful because they're so brief."

Blair was saved from commenting by the shrill whistle of the tea kettle. Jim gave him a shrewd look before moving into the kitchen. Blair took a shuddering breath and tried to get himself under control. He'd been able to keep it together over dinner, though his companion had been incredibly distracting in that black silk shirt. The vamp was sexy, no doubt about it, and Blair couldn't deny the pull he felt. If Jim asked him right now, he'd offer up his neck, his arm, whatever handy vein was easiest just to feel those lips against his skin.

"I hope you like Lapsang Souchong," Jim said. "I have an acquaintance in China that sends it to me."

"Wow. Yeah, that sounds great." Blair ran his hand over the granite top of the island. "Do you…uh…use the kitchen much?"

"No. That doesn't mean it shouldn't be fully functional." Jim used loose leaf tea, and soon had two mugs of it steeping on the counter, stainless steel infusers clipped to the sides. "How do you take your tea?"

"With honey, if you have some."

He opened a cabinet door, which was empty save for a container of sugar, a little squeeze bottle of honey, and some non-dairy creamer. Blair wagered that most of the rest of the cabinets, and the fridge, were similarly devoid of comestibles. He wondered if Jim even knew how to cook, though it would have been a completely superfluous skill.

"So…uh…" Blair bit his lip. He had no idea what to say, now that they were here. It was clear that Jim had brought him back here to make good on the deal, but he wasn't sure what needed to happen first. Was there a protocol for this kind of thing?

"You don't need to be so nervous, Sandburg," Jim said with a wry smile. He leaned back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. Like all vampires he had a stillness that could be disconcerting in the way it emphasized their essential differences from mortals.

"There's something pretty incongruous about a vampire in the kitchen," Blair said.

"Would you prefer me lounging on a big round bed, surrounded by silks and velvet with lit candelabras scattered around to add to the ambience?"

He cut his eyes up to the loft where the bedroom was, then looked back down at the granite countertop, flushing. Not the picture he needed in his head. Jim laughed.

"You need to let go of your Victorian assumptions, kid. I sleep in a regular bed, in a regular room."

Blair fought the urge to apologize, not wanting to sound any more ridiculous. "_Do_ you sleep? I know some do, though I understand it's not necessary. I mean, that sure would've come in handy when I was an undergrad, you know?"

Jim shrugged, and checked on the tea. "I don't need to sleep, but I often do anyway. It helps to keep on a mortal schedule."

"No coffin?" Blair joked.

"Depends. Some of the old-timers still use them. I prefer a bed. Friends of mine in warmer climates have specially made freezers."

"Freezers? Really?"

Jim removed the infusers and passed Blair a mug and the honey. "Some of us are more susceptible to temperature changes. I believe it goes back to a particular bloodline. Mine's made of hardier stuff."

Blair followed Jim into the living room, taking a seat on one of the two supple leather sofas; his host sat opposite him, a gleaming wood coffee table between them. He couldn't believe he was here, sharing a cup of tea with the Master of the City; the very normality of it made it all the more surreal. It felt somehow inevitable, which prompted his next question.

"Do you believe in destiny?"

"No," Jim answered promptly. "I believe in making choices."

"How do you know those choices aren't leading you to your destiny?"  
"There's no such thing as destiny," Jim said, frowning just a little. "It wasn't destiny or fate that turned me into a vampire. It was someone's _choice_."

Blair nodded, and took a sip of his tea. "Maybe that _was_ your destiny. I mean, if you hadn't been turned back then, we wouldn't be sitting here talking right now."

"Random chance."

"There's nothing random in the universe, Jim. Turning left instead of right, looking up instead of down…every choice leads us where we need to be. Me, I chose a dusty book off a dusty shelf in an obscure library, and that book led me here. And it turns out this is exactly where I need to be."

"Does it comfort you to think of some greater power designing your life for you? I would rather be in charge of that myself."

"I can see why you'd feel that way," Blair said. "The most important choice of your life was taken away from you. I get that. But look at all the good you've done since that happened, Jim."

Jim chuffed out a derisive laugh. "Destiny is a romantic notion, created by mortals as comfort during the dark times of their lives."

Blair nodded, warming to the debate. He set his mug on the coffee table and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I don't have the benefit of your world view, that's true. Vamps and mortals approach things in a very different way. But I do believe there's a bigger plan in place. I like to think that destiny prepares us to follow a particular path, _guides_ us. Of course, free will ensures that we still make most of our own decisions, and maybe some of those take us off the path. I firmly believe it all comes back around, though. For better or worse, we end up where we need to be."

"And you think you need to be here, right at this moment?" Jim studied him, blue eyes unblinking.

"Yeah, I do."

"Mortals are such romantics."

"So, what? Vamps don't do romance?"

Jim shook his head. "Our lives are too long. And vampires can be very…sensual creatures. Monogamy isn't something we do with any great success."

"Surely some vamps must be able to make that work," Blair insisted. Sentinels and Guides were together for life, and he'd hate to think that a little thing like vampirism would make that impossible.

"There have been some. The friends I mentioned earlier; they come together time after time, though they seem unable to stay together for very long periods."

"How long have you and Sharyn been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

Jim took a long drink of tea, and Blair wondered if he'd stepped over some kind of line when he didn't get a response right away. He remembered what Sharyn had said about not sharing their histories, but thought that with Jim poised to tell him the story of becoming a Sentinel that a little extra wouldn't hurt. He was just about to apologize when he got his answer.

"Ninety years."

"Wow. That's a long time. So you must be one of the special ones, then."

"We don't have a romantic relationship," Jim protested. "There has never been anything sexual between us."

Blair raised an eyebrow at that admission. "Yeah, well, that's good. Fine. But it's still a relationship. Ninety years is a pretty long shared history."

Jim shrugged, looking oddly embarrassed. In for a penny, in for a pound, and Blair was ready to jump right to it.

"Jim? Can you tell me how you became a Sentinel? Were you born that way?"

The vamp's lips curled up in a smile at that, a predatory look coming over his face that sent a little thrill up Blair's spine. "Are you prepared to keep your end of the deal?"

Blair nodded mutely, hoping he didn't look too eager. This was it, finally. Everything he'd been working towards for so many years. Confirmation of his theory, validation of his life's work. And also, according to his mother and a dream of a long-dead ancestor, his destiny.

Jim leaned back, sinking a bit into the sofa cushions. He stretched out one arm and propped his right ankle on his left knee. He looked completely relaxed and ready to settle in for the long haul, which only made Blair lean forward even more, determined not to miss a word.

"I was stationed at Fort Cascades. It wasn't a very exciting assignment; we were there to protect a portage road and we didn't really see much action. I remember we did a lot of drills. My father wanted me to find a better posting, but I loved the Washington Territory. I still do. There was just something about it that called me.

"In 1856 there was a fire that burned the fort to the ground. I always suspected it was arson, but there'd been no way to prove it back then. While plans were made to rebuild, the garrison was moved to a camp and a volunteer was left behind to keep guard of the site, though there wasn't much left to pilfer."

"Let me guess," Blair interjected. "You were the volunteer."

"Nice to know you're not just another pretty face, Sandburg." Jim finished his tea and set the mug on the coffee table. "Yes, I volunteered. I was out there for several days, alone. On the fourth day, my hearing became abnormal. I could hear things I shouldn't have been able to. The water I had boiling over my campfire was like thunder in my ears. The rest of my senses followed pretty quickly after that. By the time my replacement came, I was practically comatose."

Blair could imagine that all too well. "In all the Sentinel lore, it's said that extended periods of isolation are a key factor in the senses coming online. In ancient tribes it was part of a coming-of-age ritual. They would send all the boys of a certain age out into the wilderness, and the ones who came back alive became men. And sometimes one of them would come back as something more."

"Well, they probably handled things a lot better than my father did," Jim said ruefully. "He had this whole future mapped out for me that he could see melting away. I was practically bedridden; headaches, sensory spikes, and sometimes I'd just black out. It was more than he could handle."

"I assume he consulted with a physician?"

"Washington Territory in the late 1850s wasn't all that settled, Chief. The local doctor was good at frontier medicine, but I confounded him. My father ended up corresponding with doctors in Boston, at Harvard Medical School. He felt their knowledge was more current and that they'd be better able to help me with my illness."

"He sent you all the way to Boston?" Blair asked, eyebrows raised. "Jesus, that trip must've been awful for you. All that sensory input and no way to control it."

Jim nodded at him appreciatively. "Up to that point in my life, it was one of the worst experiences I ever had. It wasn't the last."

*o*o*o*

_Jim hadn't wanted to be sent away, but his father had insisted; he knew his son couldn't receive proper treatment in such a wild part of the country. He paid two of his most trusted men to accompany his son to Boston, where medical services were much more plentiful, and more cutting edge. He'd wired ahead, of course, and set up several appointments for Jim._

_ The trip East was excruciating. The first leg was via stagecoach; Jim couldn't bear the constant swaying and creaking, or the smell of the horses. He took frequent doses of laudanum just to keep from getting sick or going crazy, though it made him very lethargic. None of the other passengers spoke with him, which suited Jim just fine; he had enough just dealing with the pounding headache and the rashes on his skin._

_ The train station in Chicago was just as bad. Sometimes Jim could hear every conversation going on around him, words overlapping until it became a raging cacophony behind his eyes, hammering at his skull. He sat outside, which provided only moderate relief, and drank more of the elixir his father had procured for him. At the rate he was going through it, he worried there wouldn't be enough left to see him all the way to his destination._

_ "Bonjour, monsieur." _

_ Even with his eyes closed, Jim could sense the man who sat down beside him. There was something off about him, but he was too miserable to focus on what that might be._

_ "You are unwell?" The man made a tsking sound. "Perhaps I could assist you?"_

_ Jim forced himself to open his eyes. The man sitting beside him had a very sympathetic expression on his face. He was large, but not obese, and wore a long black overcoat and a top hat. He was immediately captivated by the man's green eyes, which were impossibly bright._

_ "That's right, mon ami. Look deeply, and feel relief from your ailments."_

_ "Who are you?" Jim asked, starting to feel a bit lightheaded, but in considerably less pain than he was a moment ago._

_ "My name is Antoine Bruneau, at your service." He swept off the hat and made a little bow. "You are James Ellison, oui? On your way to Boston?"_

_ "How did you know that?"_

_ "I am a man who knows many things." Antoine grinned, and it made his average face almost beautiful. "Perhaps you would like to hear a story to pass the time? Oui?"_

_ Jim felt himself nod, and thought he should be worried about how disconnected he was now feeling from everything. He kept his gaze on his new companion's face, unable to look away._

_ "Ah, well. Several years ago I found myself in Glasgow, in the country of Scotland. There I heard the most amazing tale from a monk in an isolated monastery. He told me the story of a man named Fionnlagh MacInnes. He was of the Clan McInnes, of course, and during his time as its leader they knew amazing prosperity."_

_ Jim nodded again, drinking in every word. Antoine's accent was lovely, every word sounding so much better coming from his mouth than it would've sounded from anyone else._

_ "Fionnlagh was said to be a giant of a man, oui? He towered over his enemies. He could see farther, hear farther, than anyone else. He knew always where to find game, and he always knew when his territory had been breached. The neighboring clan, MacLachlan, was jealous of how well MacInnes' people lived and their leader, Niall, took it upon himself to get rid of Fionnlagh."_

_ The world had narrowed down to Antoine and the story he wove for Jim's ears alone._

_ "To get to Fionnlagh, Niall first had to kill his trusted bodyguard, Beathan, and the wife he loved above all things, Mòrag. But when the deed was done, Fionnlagh went on a bloody rampage and killed many a MacLachlan, including Niall himself, before he was finally taken down in battle. It was said he gave up, unable to go on because his heart had been taken from him. It is very sad, n'est pas?"_

_ Antoine patted him on the leg. "This Scot, Fionnlagh, was called Aigneadh Loach. Spirit Warrior. I have heard similar stories in other countries, including my own. There he would be called La Sentinelle. A man who can see and hear far distances, who can feel the touch of an angel's wing. A man who can smell an approaching enemy on the wind from kilometers away, taste fouled water from the tiniest drop on his tongue."_

_ "I don't understand," Jim said, still floating and feeling hazy. He felt the story was important somehow, but he couldn't focus on it. Antoine looked away for a moment, and suddenly everything pressed back in on him, sounds gone loud and impossible. He could hear hundreds of heartbeats, but again that sense of wrongness returned, and when he focused on his companion he finally knew why. Countless heartbeats sounded in his ears, but there was none coming from the man beside him._

_ "What are you?" he asked, fearfully. For surely there had been magic at work to take him so completely off his guard. He wished he had his Colt readily at hand._

_ Antoine turned back around to look at him, the same avidly pleasant expression on his face and once more Jim felt himself taken over by a calming lethargy. _

_ "I have had many names, mon ami. In the language of my homeland, I am called vampyre. You will call me Master. Allons-y!"_

_ Antoine clapped his top hat back on his head and stood, tugging Jim up with a hand on his arm. He went willingly enough, though he felt as if he were moving through molasses. _

_ "Where are we going?"_

_ "It is time to begin your true journey, James. Ma Sentinelle. Come."_

_ Jim was only vaguely aware of climbing into a waiting carriage, leaving his traveling companions behind without a word or even a thought. They traveled well outside of the city, to a small house that looked as if it had been deserted for some time. Antoine paid the driver and led Jim inside._

_ "Oui. This will do nicely. C'est bon."_

_ They went up a flight of stairs and into a bedroom, empty save for a feathered mattress on the floor. Jim lay down on it when instructed to do so, after Antoine had helped him out of his traveling coat._

_ "It is time to be remade, James. It is time to embrace your new life and use your new gifts as they were meant to be."_

_ Jim nodded, waiting. He was so far out of it that the sight of Antoine suddenly sprouting fangs only stirred sluggish feelings of alarm inside him._

_ "Moi et tu, ma Sentinelle," Antoine said with a rapturous look on his face. "We will do great things."_

_ Then he knelt down and leaned in, turning Jim's head to expose his neck. There was pain, sharp enough to cut through the haze, but it was followed so quickly by pleasure, bright and encompassing, that Jim only pulled Antoine closer. As his life's blood was drained away, all he could feel was gratitude._

*o*o*o*

Blair was literally on the edge of his seat, and imagined his eyes must look ridiculously large at the moment. Jim was quite the storyteller, and he'd given so much more than had been expected. Blair knew it was probably foolish, but he felt incredibly pleased that the Master of the City had shared the story of his Making; that was a rare thing indeed.

"What happened then?" he couldn't help but ask.

Jim had a far away look in his eyes. "I woke as a vampire and a Sentinel, so consumed with blood lust I was uncontrollable. The vampire powers and the Sentinel powers seemed to be competing within me, and I was in a lot of pain, both physical and mental. Antoine didn't know what to do, so he took me to Scotland and we stayed with the monks at the monastery he'd talked about. We stayed there a long time – about thirty years, I'd say. That's where I learned how to integrate and control both aspects of myself and not end up slobbering on myself in mental ward somewhere."

"Wow. That's…thank you. For sharing that with me. You didn't have to."

"I don't mind you knowing, so long as you tell no-one."

"You have my word," Blair vowed. "I've heard a lot of Sentinel stories over the years, but never the one Antoine told you."

"It was never written down."

"Oh. Well, it should be."

Jim leaned forward and there was a hungry look on his face that had Blair moving backwards just a little. "I believe we agreed on an exchange?"

"Yeah. No, of course. But…there's something you should know about first. Before we start…exchanging other things."

"And that would be?" Jim asked suspiciously.

"What do you know about Guides?"

* * *

_**AN: **So now we have more of Jim's backstory, which is good. I'm sure it would've been far less interesting if not for Google and Wikipedia. LOL! All historical and foreign language mistakes are mine, so please be gentle with me._

_I can promise you that there will be some blood sucking in the next chapter, because I know I've made you all wait too long for that. Coming hopefully soon, if I can wrangle some of my other fics into submission. Why do I always feel that's a losing battle? ::grins::_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Blair was sitting close enough that Jim could hear the brisk movement of blood through his veins. He could feel the warmth radiating off his body and it was hard to pay attention to the words coming from the mortal's mouth, but he knew if he didn't there was a chance he'd never get a taste and that was unacceptable.

He'd shared the story of his Making, something he'd only ever shared with Antoine; not even Sharyn knew, just as he wasn't privy to _her_ story. Antoine would never have approved sharing something so personal with a mortal, but Jim knew Blair was somehow more than that. The mortal knew about Sentinels, had been able to find out that one had been turned into a vampire, and now he was asking about Guides.

"The monks tried to talk to Antoine about that, I think." Jim tried to cast his mind back, but there was a lot about those first years that were just a jumble of random impressions. "He never discussed it with me and I assumed it was something I didn't need."

Blair rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Not to speak ill of your Maker, but if he had any knowledge of Sentinels he'd have understood the importance of the Guide."

It was clear that the mortal was struggling to hold on to his temper, and Jim amused himself by monitoring his rise in heart rate and body temperature. Clearly the subject of Guides was important to him.

"Look, Jim, this is really crucial okay? Every Sentinel needs a Guide. How long did you say it took to get your senses under control? Thirty-some years?"

"Thereabouts, but it wasn't only the Sentinel senses working against me."

Blair spread his arms out. "See, that's the point! The senses _shouldn't_ have been working against you, they wouldn't have if you'd had a Guide."

"I don't have any trouble now," Jim pointed out.

"But I bet you haven't reached your Sentinel potential either. You can't, not without a Guide to anchor you." The mortal got to his feet and began pacing. "Of course, factoring in vamp powers on top of those, who the hell knows what you'd be capable of."

"Sounds like a lot riding on one person, Sandburg." Jim didn't like the idea of such power and potential resting in someone else's hands. His enhanced senses already gave him an edge on other vamps his age; how much more would he be able to do if the had a Guide?

"It's like that story you just told me." Blair continued to pace. "The only way he could be defeated was to destroy his heart. His Guide. It must've been either his wife or his second in command. With his Guide he was able to keep his clan safe, and prosperous. With his Guide he was impossible to defeat."

Jim sniffed derisively. What he took away from that story was that the Guide made Fionnlagh alternately very strong and completely vulnerable. He wasn't sure it was a good trade-off.

"Mock me if you will, but it all comes back to destiny, man. Your Maker totally screwed with yours." Blair sat beside Jim, so close their thighs pressed together. "You were on your way to Boston, right? If you'd made it there you would've met your Guide. Your coming had been foretold to her, but then you were a no show."

"How do you _know_ that?" Instant suspicion. "I didn't even know what I was then."

"Sentinels and Guides can't be boiled down just to genetics," Blair explained patiently. "There's a huge spiritual aspect that comes with it. Visions, prophetic dreams, that kind of thing."

"So that's what you are? A Guide?" That would certainly explain that little extra something he could sense in the mortal, that something that made him more than merely human.

"The woman you were supposed to meet was my ancestor," Blair said softly. "She waited for you but you didn't come. So she married and lived her life, but she never forgot you. She visited me in a dream, almost as soon as I met you."

Jim held his tongue, though he wanted to scoff at the idea of the dead contacting the living. He supposed that was a hypocritical point of view coming from a vampire, but he'd long ago given up dwelling on what his life would've been like if Antoine hadn't intervened. And now here was this mortal with yet another version, one where he could've made a life for himself in Boston as a Sentinel.

"Bonnie," he said, surprising himself. For just an instant he could see her in his mind's eye, a young woman with long red hair and familiar blue eyes. "Her name was Bonnie."

"That's…how did you know?"

"Search me. But you have her eyes." He couldn't look away from them. Big and beautiful and entirely without guile. Something else fell into place as well, and now he understood his instant attraction to the curly-haired mortal, as well as the obsession that drove him so hard. He reached out, wrapping one finger around a chestnut-colored curl.

"You're _my_ Guide. Aren't you."

Blair nodded, his face slightly flushed. "I have nothing empirical to base that on. I just _feel_ that it's right."

Jim could smell his arousal, mixed in with a sour bit of fear. He leaned forward, scenting the hair he still had hold of. Various hair care products, and beneath them just the faintest whiff of sweat.

"I feel it too," he murmured. It was all the affirmation he needed and he struck fast, his hand wrapping around the back of Blair's neck as he pulled him in for a kiss. The first taste was heady, a mix of wine and tea and honey. Jim chased the flavor deeper into Blair's mouth, and was accepted without hesitation.

Blair moaned, the vibrations moving through Jim's skin. He'd forgotten the simple pleasures of kissing, the sensual glide of tongue against tongue. Or maybe it was just this particular mortal, with his delicious scent and hands clutching at Jim's thighs. His fangs dropped down, unbidden, and a shiver ran through him when Blair explored them, tongue stroking along each one in turn.

Jim pulled back and admired the effects of the kiss on Blair; the mortal was flushed, panting, and his eyes had glazed over. There was more still to come; he hadn't forgotten the promise of blood, knew he could take it at any time. He waited, though. Wanted it offered freely.

"Wow," Blair breathed. "That was…intense."

Jim couldn't help but agree. It had been a very long time since a mere kiss had affected him the way this one had, though the only other one that had wasn't his fondest memory. Before his thoughts could start traveling down a dark road Blair swung his leg over Jim's and settled into his lap as if he had every right to be there. There was a very good chance this was true.

"You're amazing, Jim." The mortal stole another quick kiss. "I'm ready."

A bolt of pure desire shot down Jim's spine. He didn't need to ask for clarification – he could smell the truth of it coming off Blair in waves. He'd been serious when he said he preferred the thigh, but he was fairly certain that getting Blair naked would be far too distracting and not advisable for their first intimacy together. If things went well, which he assumed they would, this wouldn't be just a one-time offer; he needed to make it good. He ran his hands down Blair's arms, feeling the texture of the Henley shirt, and stopped just short of the silver cuff on the mortal's wrist.

"You need to take this off," he murmured in Blair's ear.

The mortal complied without question, reaching behind to let the shiny accessory drop with a clank to the coffee table. Jim then continued his path down his arms to the wrists, and this time he frowned.

"What's this?"

Blair's scent changed, arousal dampened by something that smelled bitter. He moved to cover his wrist but Jim stopped him. He lifted the mortal's arm, bringing it eye level, and saw a mass of scarring, lumpy and ugly. It could've been the result of an animal bite or an unfortunate run-in with a piece of machinery, but Jim's keen eyes saw it for what it was and rage burst forth, sudden and completely unexpected.

"You let a vampire feed from you?" His hand clamped hard on the offending wrist, but to his credit Blair didn't back down or try to pull away; instead he met Jim's flinty gaze with one of his own.

"It happened during my second interview, over a year ago."

"A Master did this?" It was unconscionable. Most Masters were powerful enough to control their bloodlust, but the savagery that Jim could read in those scars told a different story. He absolutely refused to acknowledge the jealousy he felt at knowing another vamp had laid fang on this mortal. _My_ mortal, he thought.

"Let's just say that my timing was lousy and my common sense even worse." Blair held his gaze, unapologetic. "I made a deal without having all the facts. It never happened again."

"Until now," Jim fairly growled.

"Until now," he agreed. He brought his free hand up and laid it against Jim's cheek. "This time it's different. I know you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that."

"I _do_. I can _feel_ the difference, Jim. I want this as much as you do."

Jim captured Blair's lips with his own, hard and hungry. That other Master hadn't fed from the mortal, he'd _mauled_ him, purposefully made him suffer incredible pain. He was familiar with a few vamps that got off that way but he refused to ask for a name; the way he was feeling right now he'd end up causing an incident that would undoubtedly involve the Council.

All thought fled when one of Jim's fangs scraped the inside of Blair's lip, flooding their kiss with blood. He moaned, almost overcome with the flavor of it. He'd never experienced anything so rich, so sweet, and it took incredible force of will to break that kiss.

"Do it," Blair gasped, pheromones thick around him. "_Please_."

Jim ran his tongue over the points of his fangs, then licked a bead of blood off the mortal's bottom lip. He slowly pushed the sleeve of Blair's shirt up, stopping briefly to press a kiss to the scarred mass on his wrist.

"Jim…"

Ignoring that moaned plea he bunched the shirt sleeve up past Blair's elbow and took a moment to taste him at the bend of his elbow. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of a racing heart forcing blood through veins and arteries just below the skin. With the ease of experience Jim rested his fangs against the delicate epidermis just below Blair's elbow. One moment more to enjoy the anticipation and with a quick motion he sank his fangs into Blair's arm and began to feed.

Blair jerked and Jim wrapped an arm around his waist, palm flat against his back to hold him in place. The pain for him would be a momentary, fleeting thing quickly replaced with pleasure. The air surrounding them quickly turned into a thick soup of arousal and lust, and Jim's lips curled up in a grin at the soft, needy noises the mortal was making.

The blood was intoxicating in a way SynthLife could never be. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect texture. Jim could taste power there as well, an indescribable tang that wasn't present in any mortal blood he'd ever tested. He felt his own desire rise, felt himself hardening and knew that Blair also had a raging erection.

"Oh _God_," the mortal moaned. "Didn't know…it would feel…so _good_."

He started rolling his hips in Jim's lap, free hand fisted around black silk. The motion brought their heated groins together and that shock of feeling, even through layers of clothes, almost brought Jim up off the couch. He added a little extra suction to the skin beneath his lips and suddenly Blair was thrashing, his breath stuttering out in tiny sobs as he came. The scent of the mortal's release was enough to put Jim over the edge as well, and if vampire reproduction systems worked properly he'd have been creaming his jeans like a teenage boy. He pulled his fangs and threw his head back as he arched up beneath Blair. It was the most intense orgasm he'd ever had, especially while still fully clothed.

Languid satiation flooded his limbs and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. His heart started, beating sluggishly in his chest as the mortal's blood circulated in his system. Blair was amazing, so incredibly vital; his skin practically hummed with life. There was no way Jim could let him go, not now that he'd tasted. He reached up to run a hand through Blair's curly hair but encountered only empty space.

Jim's senses told him something was wrong even before he opened his eyes and saw that Blair was gone. This would've been mildly worrisome, but the loft was likewise missing. He'd had some good orgasms in his life, but none that had transported him out of reality and into a blue jungle.

*o*o*o*

_Jim was immediately on the defensive, opening his senses to detect a sign of the enemy that had somehow transported him from his very comfortable sofa to this jungle. The light was wrong here, the colors all shades of blue and gray. The air was full of animal sounds but there were no corresponding heart beats. The smell of the place was all wrong, too; no rich, earthy scent perfumed by wildflowers, instead it smelled vaguely like wet tweed._

_ His senses told him there were no mortals here, nor were there any vamps, but that didn't mean there was no danger. Jim weighed his options. He could stand here in the false jungle, waiting for this hallucination to pass, or he could get moving and try to determine why he was here. He decided it was _not_ a time for stillness and unanswered questions. He made it three steps when he detected a presence behind him, one that didn't register on any of his senses._

_ Jim spun around with vampire speed, fangs dropping down as he prepared to defend himself. The apparition who stood waiting didn't appear at all intimidated; if anything, the man dressed in a loin cloth with black tribal paint on his bare torso and red on his face looked mildly amused._

_ "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?"_

_ "I have grown weary waiting for you, Sentinel."_

_ "You didn't answer my question," Jim growled. He didn't take the relaxed posture or calm manner at face value; he hadn't survived this long trusting only what his eyes could see. It was always better to anticipate an attack than be caught out unawares._

_ "I am called Incacha." The man dipped his head. "You have found the Guide. This pleases me."_

_ Jim's eyes narrowed. This ghost – vision, whatever – knew he was a Sentinel. More than that, he knew about Sandburg and Jim himself hadn't known that until just a little while ago._

_ "Is he here? What have you done with him?"_

_ "The Shaman will come in his own time. This moment is for the Sentinel alone."_

Shaman?_ "Listen, pal…"_

_ "Incacha."_

_ "Send me back. Right now." Jim put all the power of compulsion behind that command, but Incacha merely grinned._

_ "Vampire powers will not work here."_

_ "What do you want with me?"_

_ "To greet you, Sentinel. This meeting should have taken place long ago."_

_ Jim relaxed his stance just a bit, and retracted his fangs. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to bite Incacha since the man was merely an apparition of some kind. Blair had said there was a mystical side to being a Sentinel and clearly that wasn't a lie._

_ "Has a Sentinel ever become a vampire?" he asked, honestly curious._

_ "You are unique."_

_ "Am I…wrong?" However much Jim had come to terms with having been turned, he still knew it was unnatural. Particularly when faced with someone like Blair who fairly shone with the life he held in his body._

_ "You are as you were meant to be," Incacha said solemnly. "But not yet all you should be."_

_ Jim frowned at the cryptic words, but the air around him began to shimmer and something told him that it was time to go. "Wait! I have more questions!"_

_ "Keep the Guide close," Incacha advised as he started to fade away. "He will be your salvation."_

*o*o*o*

"…on, big guy. Give me a sign here."

Jim shook his head, confused by the jarring transition from jungle to loft. Blair was still sitting in his lap, but his eyes were filled with concern now instead of darkened with lust, hands tightly gripping Jim's shoulders.

"Relax, Sandburg." He put his hands on the mortal's hips, grounding himself.

"You really know how to kill the mood, man. Did you zone out?" Blair relaxed but didn't look any less concerned.

"Sorry. How's the arm?"

The deflection was obvious but Blair let it slide, instead holding out his arm for inspection. The bite mark was clean and already partially healed; if a vamp intended to please, quick healing was almost always a direct result. Jim could still taste blood on his tongue, already wanting more.

"That was…I can't even describe it." Blair dropped his head on Jim's shoulder. "I didn't know it'd be that good."

"Neither did I," Jim admitted. He sniffed at the mortal's hair. It wasn't just blood he wanted, it was more of everything, more of whatever Blair would give to him. The strength of his feelings was alarming, but he could be just as much a slave to his own desires as anyone else.

"Stay," Jim murmured.

Blair pulled back, a smile on his face. He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

He slid off Jim's lap and pulled a bit at the waistband of his jeans, wincing. Clearly he was uncomfortable with the mess he'd made of himself. Jim forced himself to stay where he was even though everything in him wanted to keep the mortal in the loft and hold him close until the sun came up. It was a frivolous and romantic notion and he frowned at himself for it.

"Thank you," Blair said, slipping the silver cuff back on his wrist. "I had a…nice time."

"Nice? I wasn't really aiming for nice, Chief."

"I don't want to over-inflate your ego," Blair replied.

"Thoughtful."

"I know."

Jim pulled out his cell phone and called down to the security room. "Carl. Mr. Sandburg will be leaving shortly. Please make the Charger available to him."

"You don't have to do that," Blair protested, though Jim could see the desire to drive the car plainly showing on his face.

"It's just a loaner, Sandburg." He stood, smoothing his shirt as he did so. "You wouldn't steal from the Master of the City, would you?"

"Who, me? No way, man. I don't have a death wish."

Jim would argue that point, but he wanted to end the night on a high note. He advanced on the mortal until he had him backed against the door. It was gratifying to see that spark of desire flare up in his eyes again.

"We should…I'd like to talk more with you. Another time." Blair's gaze fell to Jim's lips and he flushed.

"Okay," Jim agreed readily. He put a finger under Blair's chin and tilted his head back, kissing him with all of the desire that had passed between them earlier. He wouldn't force the mortal to stay, but he'd damn sure make him regret leaving.

Blair whimpered, pressing himself against Jim in an altogether needy fashion. Once again Jim lost himself to the warm, silky touch of the mortal's tongue against his, all of his senses wide open and soaking up every bit of input possible. He thought perhaps Blair would change his mind, but when they moved apart he still had one hand on the doorknob.

"I have to go."

"Right." Jim took a few steps back, putting space between them. Blair gave him another big smile and then he left. Jim followed his progress, head tilted a bit to the side as he listened. Carl met him on the second floor landing and escorted him to the garage. All too soon the Charger's engine roared to life and the mortal was gone.

Jim looked around the loft, his home and sanctuary from the outside world. It had never felt empty, not the way it did now, and that made him a little angry. It was a mistake, getting involved with a mortal. Blair called it destiny, and the vision of Incacha had given the same impression. He didn't know what to think anymore, but any vamp knew there could be no future with a mortal; you either had to watch them die, or turn them, and he didn't like either of those options.

He went on the balcony, looking out at the city he had sworn to watch over as a Master and as a Sentinel. Would his involvement with Blair affect his ability to do his job? He hoped not, but this whole Guide thing was a new and unknown factor. One feed and already he was having mystical visitations; he still wasn't sure what to make of that and he couldn't get Incacha's words out of his head.

_He will be your salvation._

* * *

_**AN: **This chapter comes to you courtesy of countless late nights, so hopefully my lack of sleep didn't reflect negatively on the content. LOL! So we finally got the part everyone wanted, with kissing and biting and other fun adult activities. Rest assured, now that they've conquered their first time there will be more. Woot!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Blair was freaking out. He'd spent the last day hiding out in his hotel room, trying to process everything that had happened with Jim the night before. There was so much information to sort through, both Sentinel and vamp related, not to mention his own role as a Guide. The one thing giving him the most trouble was his reaction to having Jim feed on him; that had been completely unprecedented and bordering on incredibly mortifying.

It wasn't that he didn't know it could be a pleasurable experience; he'd seen plenty of bangers reduced to quivering masses at the fangs of a vamp. But his one experience had been extraordinarily painful, unduly so because the Master of Miami was a vindictive, paranoid vamp who was responding to an imagined slight on Blair's part. He could've reported the Master to the proper authorities, but he hadn't wanted to make waves so early in his search. He'd ended up seeing a back alley physician to get his wound tended to before he bled out.

With Jim, it had been so different. The waves of pleasure had rolled over him without ceasing. There had been pain, sure, but only the instant the fangs had pierced his skin. He'd known that Jim wouldn't hurt him, knew it on a level he shouldn't have, knew it the moment the vamp shared his history. He just hadn't expected to have such a visceral reaction. It was embarrassing, especially when he had to leave with a sticky mess plastering his boxers to his skin.

Blair straightened his spine, trying to get back on track with his meditation. He needed to make a plan, figure out what his next step should be. It was too easy to get distracted with memories of hot kisses and an orgasm that left him feeling as if he'd been turned inside out. As if the Sentinel-Guide relationship wasn't complicated enough, he needed to figure out how the vamp component fit in, as well as the physical attraction he felt for Jim.

He had experience with men, of course. Naomi had raised him to embrace love in all its forms, and he had. He could only assume that his instant attraction to Jim had more to do with the Guide connection than anything else, and he knew there would be more research ahead as he looked for more documentation on the specifics of the Sentinel-Guide relationship. Burton never had much to say on the topic, and he was the one who knew it the best.

The real problem was that Jim didn't have any particular difficulties with his senses. He'd had decades to get a handle on them, and it was likely that being a vamp affected his control as well. There would have to be testing, so he could see what Jim's baselines were, learn what he was capable of, and separate out the Sentinel senses from the vamp senses. If this was information he could publish without putting Jim in harm's way, he'd probably have a chance at a Nobel prize.

"Jeez, focus Blair!" he derided himself. He was supposed to be keeping his mind blank, not making mental lists of things he needed to do. He concentrated on his breathing, nice deep breaths. Finally he was able to shake Jim from his mind, at least temporarily, and he let himself sink deeper into the meditative state.

*o*o*o*

_Blair found himself sitting on a blanket in a park, beneath a shade tree. He wasn't surprised to see Bonnie sitting across from him, her head tilted back and eyes closed. Now that he knew who she was, he studied her more closely to see if there were genetic similarities. He didn't forget what Jim said, about having the same eyes, and it warmed him to have that connection._

_There were other people out in the park, their clothing consistent with the time period Blair now knew he was in, but they were as hazy and indistinct as a Monet painting. Bonnie came through crystal clear, though, and when she opened her eyes and smiled at him he forgot everything else._

_"You've found him then?"_

_"Yes. I'm sorry you never got the chance to know him."_

_"Everything happens as it should, mo aingeal. You are where you need to be."_

_Blair nodded. He felt that was true, had since the beginning. "The question is, what do I do now?"_

_Bonnie smiled at him, and again he was struck by the sadness in her eyes. "There are dark times ahead. Keep your Sentinel close, he'll be needing his Guide."_

_"I'm afraid."_

_"Do not fear what you feel, mo cruidh. Trust yourself, and trust in your Sentinel."_

_But he did fear his feelings. They were too strong, too soon. He could easily envision a future for himself and Jim, but what type of future could they really have? Jim would never grow any older. And Blair had no desire to be changed; not even for his Sentinel._

_ "How…how can we…"_

_ "Hush now. You've important work to be done, and you'll not do it here." Bonnie leaned forward and pressed a phantom kiss to his cheek; he felt only a chilly breath against his skin._

_*o*o*o*_

_ Peter wasn't happy to be woken up before the night shift started and he spent a good five minutes cursing at Blair through the phone. "I mean, honestly, this couldn't have waited? Do you have any idea what I'm dealing with right now?"_

_ "Peter…"_

_ "The Vampire Council is in an uproar because they've got an escapee from Lamia _Fængsel in Greenland."

Blair frowned. "A prison?"

"_The_ prison," Peter clarified. "How the hell do you start vamp research without knowing the basics?"

"Because I didn't care about criminals," Blair replied a bit petulantly. "Who escaped, anyway?"

"Don't know. The Council is keeping it under wraps and none of my vamp contacts knows anything. No-one's ever been able to get a list of convicts, but if they're coming out of Lamia it's not good. Very not good. _No_ vamp has ever gotten out of Lamia."

"Well, if anyone can suss it out, it's you."

"Can the flattery," Peter replied, but he sounded slightly appeased. "What did you need, anyway?"

Blair ran a hand through his hair and clutched the phone a bit tighter in his hand. This wasn't going to go over well, he knew it wasn't, but it was information he needed just the same.

"Peter…what do you know about long-term mortal-vamp relationships?"

The silence on the other end was telling and Blair sighed. There was another lecture coming, and he could only hope that Peter wouldn't find some way of getting in touch with Naomi and letting her in on the latest in Blair's Crazy Vamp Obsession.

"Blair, I want you to listen to me very carefully. There are no mortal-vamp relationships, okay? For about a million reasons, it's just a bad idea. You're getting in way too deep out there; please go home."

"Hold the intervention." Blair rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, man, it's just more information for my research, okay? I'm fine."

"Yeah. Okay. Off the top of my head, there's only one arrangement between vamps and mortals that has any staying power. The Heart."

Blair nodded, though he knew Peter couldn't see him. "I've heard of that. It's a mostly honorary title, though, isn't it?"

"For some. Depends on the vamp. Having regular blood on tap is a status thing, gives a vamp extra juice. The Heart is almost universally revered in the vamp community, even after they've retired."

"Is that a euphemism?"

Peter laughed. "They don't kill them. Hearts are given a place to live, a stipend – it's an actual retirement. Blair…you and the Master of Cascade. You haven't agreed to anything have you? Because becoming a Heart, that's a lifetime deal."

"No, no. Nothing like that." Although now that the idea was in his head, he could see the merits of it - something similar to the Sentinel and Guide relationship, to a certain degree; mutual benefits, for sure.

"Just…don't do anything stupid, Sandburg. Please."

"I'm a big boy, Peter."

"So you keep telling me." With that, Peter ended the call.

Blair dropped back down on his bed and closed his eyes. Maybe mortals and vamps didn't have normal, long-lasting relationships by human standards – and for obvious reasons – but they'd never factored in the link between a Sentinel and a Guide before, and he was determined that they could beat the odds. Heart or no Heart.

*o*o*o*

When Blair came back down the hall to his room after an uninspired but satisfactory dinner in the hotel restaurant he found Jim leaning casually against his door. He was wearing faded skintight jeans and an unbuttoned chambray shirt over a dark blue ribbed tank top. Blair's mouth went dry as a desert.

"Good dinner, Sandburg?" A lazy smile spread across Jim's face. "Strip steak. Building up your iron levels? And…baked sweet potato?"

"You can tell all that?" He was impressed. "Do you know what kind of dressing I had on my salad?"

Jim huffed in a breath. "Thousand Island."

"Wow."

"Yeah, real impressive. It's a handy skill, knowing what people ate twenty minutes ago." Jim pushed up off the wall and just stood there, all loose-limbed and ridiculously sexy.

"Was there some reason you stopped by, apart from telling me what I had for dinner?" Blair tried to strike a casual pose and feared he was failing miserably, particularly when the vamp smirked at him.

"I came to collect my car."

He felt a sharp stab of disappointment at that. Of course. The Charger. Just because Jim had asked him to stay the night before…well, that was probably just the after-effects of the feeding. Endorphins were high, they were both riding the rush of orgasm, it didn't mean…

And then Jim was pressed up against him, mouth moving on his, hands clutching at his hips. Blair couldn't think of anything but kissing back, hands splayed on Jim's chest, fingers rubbing over the texture of the tank top. This was good, this was _really_ good, and when he felt Jim's fangs drop down his heart raced with anticipation.

The vamp pulled back, blue eyes bright and intense. "Let's go."

"Go?" Blair asked, dazed. He fisted his hands in Jim's shirt to keep him from moving away. "Go where?"

"Back to my place," Jim whispered in his ear. "You need anything from your room?"

"Uh…no. No."

There was another kiss, brief but thorough, and then he was being propelled towards the elevator. There were no more words exchanged between them until they were in the car and speeding back towards the Loft.

"We need to talk, Sandburg."

Blair grinned. "You breaking up with me, big guy?"

"Not today." Jim threw him an amused glance and pressed even harder on the gas pedal. Blair clutched at the door handle.

"You…uh…didn't forget I'm breakable, right?"

"Relax, junior. I know what I'm doing."

Which seemed to be the case as he wove in and out of traffic with ease. All too soon they were back at Jim's place and pulling into the garage. Blair got just as big a kick of seeing the old cars as he had the night before, but breezed right past them with an eagerness of what would probably happen once they got upstairs.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked as they got in the elevator.

In response Jim merely backed him into a corner and made a new assault on his mouth. As a conversational distraction it was fairly effective, and the only reason Blair knew they'd made it upstairs was that Jim was moving him, without once letting up on the kiss. Their lips stuttered apart only as he fell back on the couch.

"Bite me," he gasped. "Please."

Jim got a feral look in his eyes that set Blair's blood boiling. He offered up the opposite arm from the night before, yanking his sleeve as high as it would go. There was one more smoldering look and then a sharp, bright pain that quickly leeched into absolute bliss. He was only vaguely aware of Jim moving over him, of air hitting bare skin. Pleasure surged over him, through him, and he could hear himself moaning, broken sounds that never made it to full words.

The fangs pulled out, stinging just a bit, and then Jim was murmuring in his ear, his voice thick with want. "Come for me, Guide."

Somehow he'd gotten Blair's pants undone, had wrapped his hand around him. The sensation was too much, on top of the bite, and it only took one stroke before he was arching up. Jim latched on to his neck, sucking a mark there, and Blair could feel him trembling his release as well.

They ended up spooning on the couch. Jim cleaned Blair up with his chambray shirt, which he then tossed carelessly on the floor. Blair could feel the vamp's slow, slow heartbeat against his back and felt a burst of possessiveness that he was the one responsible for it.

"About that talk," Jim said. "I think we should have it upstairs."

"Little late for that," Blair observed with a sleepy yawn.

"Never too late."

"Hey, what do you know about Lamia prison?"

He didn't know why he'd brought it up, except that his brain was kind of floating at the moment and random bits of his day were filtering through it. If Jim thought it was an odd question he gave no indication.

"Prison for vampires, about thirty miles from Gunnbjorn. Not much to know, really. If a vampire commits a serious crime, they can either be sent there or executed. Most of the time it's up to the nearest acting authority to decide." He rubbed his hand in little circles over Blair's stomach. "Any particular reason you want to know?"

"Mmmm. No. Talked to a friend of mine today. Said someone got out."

It took almost a minute for Blair to notice that Jim had stiffened up behind him. He squirmed around until they were facing each other. "Something wrong?"

Jim stroked a finger down the side of his face. "No. Nothing that needs to concern you."

"Are you sure? I'm an excellent listener." Blair tried out his best listening face, which only made Jim laugh.

"I appreciate your concern." In one fluid movement he got up from the couch without unnecessarily jostling Blair and stood beside him, holding out his hand. "Come upstairs with me."

"Jim…"

"Just tonight."

Blair studied him for a moment; Jim's voice gave nothing away, and his face was still and expressionless. It was next to impossible to get a read off of him, at least not in the usual way. He took a deep breath and stretched out with the Guide sense he knew he must have but had never had the opportunity to use. The feeling that came back was faint, but unmistakable. _Longing_.

"Just tonight," he said, taking Jim's hand.

The vamp pulled him up and held him close for a moment, before releasing him and pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. "Take care of your messy mortal needs. I'll be waiting."

"Messy? I'm never messy." Blair huffed in mock annoyance. Jim held up the stained chambray shirt.

"I beg to differ."

"Vamp humor? Very nice." Blair smirked and ducked into the bathroom. He took care of his "messy" needs and then stood there a moment to catch his breath. There was no mirror, which was frustrating because he was fairly certain he needed to give himself a stern talking to. He wondered what it was he was doing; this was going fast, too fast maybe, but there was no stopping now. And he'd begged to be bitten, would've done anything for it. And, oh, the idea of not sleeping alone, even if for just one night…there was a lot to like about that.

Blair climbed the stairs in semi darkness, most of the lights having been turned off. There was one small bedside lamp that illuminated Jim, arms behind his head as he lounged on the king-sized bed. He was naked to the waist, the rest of him tantalizingly hidden beneath the sheet. Blair didn't know what the protocol was here; did he strip down naked or leave his boxers on?

"You protect your virtue," Jim said with a grin.

"Too late for that." But he left the boxers on anyway and crawled into bed next to the sexiest vamp that he had ever had the pleasure of making out with. It was unbelievable that this had become his life. Even more so when Jim pulled him close without any sexual intent at all.

"A guy could get used to this," Blair murmured.

"That's the idea, Chief," Jim chuckled in reply.

"So…uh…what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't get involved with mortals."

Blair couldn't help himself; the serious tone of Jim's voice made him dissolve into helpless laughter until he was wheezing. "Oh, man, it's a little late for that," he said when he finally was able.

"Never too late," Jim replied placidly. He was propped up on one elbow, his face vampire-still and giving nothing away.

"Sorry, big guy, but the Sentinel and Guide thing? That's a lifetime arrangement." Blair sat up and leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over his bare chest. If Jim thought he was just going to forget the whole thing and walk away…well, he was prepared to put up a fight.

"Your lifetime, Sandburg. Not mine."

"Look, Jim, I know this is…"

"A bad idea? You're right, it is. I can't explain about the Sentinel thing, which is the only way that you and I together makes sense in _my_ world. And I won't change you. I won't change _anyone_."

Blair could understand Jim's vehemence on that subject. A Sentinel especially wouldn't willingly kill a member of his tribe without just cause and creating new vamps likely didn't fit that scenario. He wondered how long it had taken him to come to terms with his changed nature, or if he ever really had.

"Works for me, man, because I have no desire to sprout fangs. Look, let's just sleep on it for tonight, okay? Tomorrow we'll work out some sort of game plan. Between the two of us we should be able to figure something out."

"All right," Jim conceded.

Blair stretched before lying back down; he left some space between him and the vamp, curious to see what would happen. It took fifteen minutes for Jim to reach for him and pull him close, and he settled in with a smirk on his face. All the rationalizing in the world wasn't going to change what they were and regardless of the circumstances one thing always remained the same – the Sentinel needed the Guide.

* * *

_**AN: **__I'm changing the name of this to The Forgotten Fic. Clearly my head is too easily turned by new and shiny bunnies and my other fics – this one included – are being rudely pushed aside. I'm trying to remedy that, I really am. Honestly, I have an outline and everything, I know where this is going and how it's going to end. It's just writing it that seems to be the problem._

_Those of you still hanging in there with me…thank you! As always, I'll try to do better. Just tell smiles2go to stop dragging me off to new fandoms and I might get this finished before the next millennium. LOL!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Prior to Longest Night, the generally accepted vampire lore held with the fact that vampires slept during the day and went about their dastardly blood-drinking business under cover of darkness; that this period of sleep was the best time to kill them because they were at their most vulnerable. Perhaps it was the connection with bats that made mortals assume vamps were nocturnal. Or it could simply have been their innate fear of the dark.

Truth was that vamps had no natural need for sleep. It was a brain chemistry thing, or so was the prevailing thought amongst specialists; there were very few vamps who cared to have their heads examined in any sense of the word. It was also true that vampires could enter a deep sleep that was akin to hibernation, if the situation warranted it; the need for blood would be drastically reduced and the vamp wouldn't be able to wake on its own.

Jim had always tried to keep to a mortal schedule, more or less, though there were times – decades – that a regular sleep cycle wasn't in his best interest. Through the years he had slept in all manner of beds in more countries than he could recall. He had slept on floors, in caves, in closets, once in the trunk of a car, and even in coffins when dictated by the vamp who was putting him up for the night. Most of those nights he'd gone to bed alone, occasionally with another vamp or two, but never – not in a hundred and forty years – had he taken a mortal to his bed.

He was unable to sleep at all at the moment, too preoccupied with the steady beating of Blair's heart and the warmth seeping through his skin and bleeding onto Jim's. The mortal was a sprawler, fully occupying his side of the bed, and he had a foot shoved under Jim's thigh. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was getting into.

Blair's presence in his life was a complication; there were no two ways about it. He wouldn't be able to broadcast his continued interest in front of his fellow vamps – mortals were merely transitory playthings, good for a quick suck and not much else. Unless the mortal was worthy enough to become a Heart. Jim had never had one, never saw the need, and it was never something he was willing to ask of anyone because it was a lifetime arrangement. But now…

Very carefully Jim slid out of bed so as not to wake Blair, who merely snuffled and shifted in his sleep. He padded naked and barefoot down the stairs, Sentinel vision compensating easily for the dark. The hour was late, but he picked up the phone and dialed with every expectation that his call would be answered; he was not disappointed.

"This is the Master of Cascade. I would speak with Josef." Going through the answering service was an inconvenience, but some vamps and most Masters refused to give out their direct numbers. It was a matter of privacy, or of affectation, but Jim's friends all knew how to reach him without an intermediary.

"James! It's been a long time, my friend." Josef always sounded as if he were having the time of his life, a put-on that he used with even his oldest friends; Jim had seen the hard edge that lived beneath the cheery exterior.

"How is the Golden State treating you?" he asked as a matter of form.

"As well as can be expected. I'm hoping to relocate shortly, as you may have heard."

Jim nodded. He'd suspected as much, as soon as he'd heard of the assassination of the Master of Los Angeles; it was a powerful location in a very powerful state, and of course Josef would have his eyes on that prize.

"Is the Council finally stepping in?"

Josef laughed. "That's not likely. I'm working a few…angles. Calling in some old markers."

Jim thought that perhaps no vamp traded so well in favors as Josef Kostan. As a high level intermediary he had ample opportunities for his particular brand of wheeling and dealing. He suspected a ledger was kept with transactions dating back centuries; there was no way to keep track of so many otherwise.

"The dreary state of Washington is still good for you?"

"You know it is. Though, there is something that troubles me."

Josef made a noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. "I've only just heard myself, James. They did not contact you directly, I take it."

"No." It rankled, and made him wonder what kind of game the Bureau of Vampire Affairs was playing with him. "It was her, wasn't it? My source didn't know for sure."

"Hang on." There was some quiet mumbling on the other end of the phone that Jim made sure not to listen to; his friends were entitled to their privacy.

"Jim! How the hell are you?"

He felt a genuine smile spread across his face. "Mick! Still hanging around that reprobate?"

"You know how it is," Mick replied, and Jim could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

Jim had spoken to Blair earlier of some vamps that came together time and again – Josef and Mick were a good example of how that kind of relationship both worked and did not. Josef had long ago accepted what he was, but Mick still occasionally tried to have a normal life; a mortal life. He would leave for a time, but the pull to Josef was too strong, and he always came back. Always came home. Jim wasn't sure if the embarrassment was because he kept leaving, or because he couldn't stay away; or maybe because he knew how much his indecision hurt Josef.

"What do you know?"

Instantly Mick's voice became steely, the voice of the military man he once was. "Barnes escaped from _Lamia _Fængsel two days ago. They still don't know how, but it must've been an inside job; there was no way for her to wake herself. The BVA is conducting a full investigation."

"She'll be coming here, Mick. She'll be looking for me."

"Whatever you need, Jim. You know you only have to ask."

Jim was pleased by the offer. He knew that Mick meant it sincerely, though in the end it would mean becoming another mark in Josef's ledger.

"In the meantime, I'll keep my ear to the ground. She'll come to Los Angeles first, I'd imagine. Her old stomping grounds."

"I agree. And I appreciate the help, Mick. From you and Josef both."

"Josef said to tell you that we expect to see you soon. He's been saving a two hundred year old whiskey for you."

"Tell him I'll take him up on that as soon as this Barnes business is taken care of."

"Be careful, Jim."

"Right back at you." Jim ended the call and sat back on the couch.

It had been a mistake not to kill Barnes when he had the chance. He didn't have a lot of regrets about his time as a vamp – he hadn't done many things he was ashamed of since being turned – but she would always be one of them. He absently fingered the tiny vial that hung around his neck.

He started compiling a mental list of things he needed to do now. Foremost among them was notifying his staff of Barnes' escape and warning the vamps under his protection. She'd go after anyone with ties to Jim, especially anyone important to him like Sharyn…or Blair.

As if thinking of the mortal summoned him, he came stumbling down the stairs, eyes half-closed and scratching at the waistband of his boxer shorts. Jim drank in the sight of him, sleep mussed and hairy and altogether edible. The thought of not being able to keep him made something in the vicinity of his atrophied heart ache.

"Jim? You down here?"

Jim leaned over and switched on the floor lamp next to the couch, automatically adjusting his vision to compensate. Blair blinked and squinted, making his way to the couch and dropping down next to Jim. He leaned against the vamp, shoulder to shoulder, and ran a hand through his curly hair.

"Everything okay?"

"It's time for you to leave," Jim said without preamble.

"Huh?"

"You should go back East. Finish your book."

Blair turned sideways, one arm along the back of the couch. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Jim could hear threads of panic and anger woven through his words. It would be best to cut ties now, cleanly, and send the mortal out of harm's way. Whatever tenuous bond was growing between them wouldn't allow it. Already he was pulling Blair towards him, his hand cupping the back of the mortal's head.

"It would be safer for you to not be around me."

Blair stroked one hand down Jim's chest in a repetitive, sweeping motion. "What's going on? If you're worried about me making trouble with the other vamps…"

"The vamp who escaped from Lamia. She's coming here, and it's not to wish me happy birthday."

"Do you still celebrate your birthday? Because I happen to know it's coming up and I don't know if there should be gift-giving or something."

Jim huffed out a laugh. "Would you focus here, Chief? This is actually kind of important."

"If I ask you why a female vamp is out to get you, will I get an honest answer?"

"You won't just go, will you?" Jim sighed in resignation.

"Not a snowball's chance, pal. So you may as well tell me."

*o*o*o*

_The Southern California sun was strong, too much so for Jim. He spent much of their trip indoors, enjoying the cool marble floors and central air; he made a mental note to talk to Antoine about having that installed in their New Orleans home. Kitty, who was still deciding on a name for herself since she couldn't recall the one she'd been born with, had taken up semi-permanent residence in the large in-ground pool out back. Josef Kostan, the vamp that was hosting them for the month, had arranged for her to have swimming lessons. As in all other areas, Kitty was a quick study and was soon quite an accomplished swimmer._

_ Jim wasn't certain what had spurred this sudden trip. Antoine had maintained that their protégé needed to see more of the world, which was not something Jim could argue with. She'd come a long way from the feral vamp they'd rescued from the circus cage, enough so that they were now discussing the possibility of sending her to school, but he'd recognized the fire in Antoine's eyes and knew there was some other purpose to their presence here amongst the rich and famous in Beverly Hills._

_ Josef had thrown a party in their honor and was ridiculously accommodating of Kitty's fond desire to meet some of the actors that lived nearby. To that end, he'd invited Mary Pickford and her equally well-known husband Douglas Fairbanks to his soiree, and they'd come with their own group of friends and hangers-on. Jim hoped that her fascination with movie stars was short-lived, though he couldn't help but share her interest in the moving pictures that were so popular now._

_ "Jim! Stop hiding and come socialize." Kitty tugged on his hands, trying to pull him out of his seat. She looked a picture in her cloche hat and light green shift dress, brown eyes sparkling with excitement. At times like this she seemed almost human. He recalled her chirp of happiness when they'd first seen the Hollywoodland sign up in the hills on their arrival._

_ "How are you finding Mary Pickford?"_

_ Kitty gave up trying to move him, instead perching on the edge of a nearby chair. "She's wonderful! I should love to see her on the film set."_

_ "I'm sure Josef would be happy to set something up for you." Jim hid a grin at the rapturous look she got on her face at the mention of their host. She'd developed a bit of a crush on him and Jim had already spoken to Antoine about it. Josef was a bit too free with his affections, which was fine as far as it went, but Kitty was still naïve about much of the world and her place in it; he wouldn't have her damaged in any way._

_ "You two make a pretty picture," Antoine said, joining them. "You are enjoying the party, ma chat?"_

_ "Oui, Papa."_

_ Jim supposed that they did at that, at least to mortal eyes; Antoine playing at the doting father while he himself was the respectful son and protective older brother. Kitty had taken to calling Antoine by that familiar appellation some time ago, which had pleased the old vamp to no end. She paid him the respect that would normally be reserved for her Maker._

_ Antoine and Kitty exchanged pleasantries but Jim found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. There was something awry that he couldn't put his finger on. He tried to block out the sound of party chatter and the band that Josef had hired to play Gershwin and Berlin songs, interspersed with some peppy jazz numbers. But it wasn't any particular noise or odor or feeling, but a combination of things that seemed to indicate that danger was nearby. That he couldn't put a name to it was incredibly frustrating._

_ "James? Are you ill?" Antoine's expression was filled with concern, but it shared space with that avid, secretive anticipation that had been gleaming out of his eyes since their arrival in California._

_ "What have you done?" he snapped, getting to his feet. Kitty was instantly on hers as well, the mask of youthful enthusiasm dropped as the vamp scanned the patio and pool area. Jim knew that if push came to shove, she'd have his back; Antoine was the de facto head of their little family, but Kitty's ultimate allegiance was with Jim._

_ "How do you feel, ma sentinelle? I must know."_

_ Jim shook his head; it was nothing he could put into words. He felt like a rabbit must when it's scented a predator nearby, though he had no urge to flee and hide himself away. Rather he planted his feet, ready to fight for what was his even though he was outside his own territory; Josef's house had become temporarily his, after a fashion, and he would defend it as such._

_ He heard his host greet newcomers at the front entrance of the house, one voice rising above the others. It scraped along his nerves and moved over his skin like a greasy, toxic residue. Without thinking Jim grabbed Kitty's wrist and pulled her behind him. He felt tight enough to snap at the slightest inclination, and then suddenly there she was, framed in the open doors that led to the patio._

_ She was beautiful, her blonde hair long instead of cut in the short bob that was so fashionable with women of the time. Everything about her was lush – her body, her full lips, the heavy-lidded way she scanned the crowd. She looked relaxed but Jim could read the signs of tension in her muscles and see the way she sniffed unobtrusively at the air. All at once he knew, and in that moment he could have throttled Antoine, mentally cursing his Maker and his unrealistically romantic view of life._

_ Josef brought her to them, her arm tucked through his. She wore a deep blue crepe dress, glittering along the neckline with beads of the same color that brought out the blue of her eyes; it did nothing to hide the curves of her body, and Jim was aware that she was already catching the attention of the other men at the party._

_ "May I present Lady Alexandra Barnes," Josef said with an easy smile. "Monsieur Antoine Bruneau and his charges, Mr. James Ellison and Miss Kitty Bruneau."_

_ Antoine took her hand with only a hint of eagerness, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "__Enchanté."_

_ Alexandra smiled prettily at him, but her eyes kept flicking up to Jim and he could feel her studying him. When Antoine released her hand she held it out to him and the look on her face could only be described as taunting. Jim accepted the challenge, though it took every ounce of willpower to touch her. His lips hovered just above her skin, close enough to fool anyone who was watching, but there was no way he was putting his mouth on her._

_ "It's a pleasure," Alexandra said._

_ Jim released her hand as quickly as he could and couldn't fight the urge to wipe his palm on the leg of his trousers. He made brief eye contact with Josef and it was obvious that the vamp was clued in to the fact that something else was happening, though he just as clearly didn't know what it was._

_ "Come, Alex. Let me introduce you to my other guests." Josef led her away, one eyebrow raised in silent question, but Jim's unease didn't lessen. _

_ "I don't understand," Kitty said. For her that was as good as a curse; she hated ignorance, particularly her own._

_ Jim turned on Antoine, who was looking particularly gleeful. "You cannot do this, Antoine. She's not right."_

_ "She is like you, ma sentinelle," Antoine argued. "I wish to have her join our family. You would have a sister, ma chat."_

_ Kitty shook her head. "No. If Jim says she's wrong, I trust him."_

_ Jim leaned over to press a kiss to her head. "She _is_ wrong. I can feel it in a way you cannot, Antoine. This will be a mistake."_

_ He knew it was a losing battle. His Maker had many good qualities, but he was too easily blinded by his personal interest in Sentinels. Despite the problems Jim had adapting to becoming a vamp in the beginning, Antoine continued to think it would work better the next time. _

_ "I'm going to find out about her," Jim promised. "And then you'll see she's not meant to be turned."_

_ "I will give you three days," Antoine huffed, annoyance masked by false generosity. "You will see, ma sentinelle. It will be good for all of us, oui? Trust in me."_

*o*o*o*

Blair watched him with wide eyes, a rapt audience. He was sitting sideways on the couch, legs thrown over Jim's and back supported by pillows propped on the arm rest. Jim could see a shadow of Antoine in his face, in the avid gaze and the propensity to become so obsessed with something that even self-preservation went out the window.

"So what happened? I'm assuming the escapee is Alex Barnes, which means that your Maker turned her after all."

Jim nodded, stroking one hand up and down the mortal's hairy shin. "She wasn't a good person, Chief, even when she still _was_ a person. She was a thief and a murderer. She used her Sentinel senses to take what she wanted, leaving nothing but ruin in her wake. But Antoine was convinced he could change her, that when she turned he'd have the influence over her to make her more like me."

"I'm guessing that didn't work out so well," Blair said quietly.

"No. She had a quicker turn-around time than I did, possibly because she was already in such control over her senses. I don't know. Antoine didn't understand when she left, when she left drained corpses from one side of the country to the other. She was reckless, careless, drunk with power." Jim closed his eyes for a moment, seeing again the crazed, feral look in her eyes at the end. "It took us three years, but we finally caught up with her. And I stopped her. Should have killed her when I had the chance; still don't know why I didn't."

The mortal leaned forward, his hand warm on Jim's shoulder. He didn't say anything, but then he didn't have to. Jim would tell the rest, because it was important; Blair needed to understand the danger, the threat that now hung over his head.

"When a mortal is turned, there's a failsafe that happens. Don't ask me how, because I have no idea. But it makes the new vamp incapable of killing their Maker. I have seen vamps writhing in pain for daring to approach their Maker with harmful intent, and all without being touched."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine that. Most likely that was born out of fear. Of losing power, of losing position. That's not unheard of for mortals either, big guy. It's the idea that inevitably the young will destroy the old, the son will replace the father."

Jim pulled Blair close enough to kiss, pressing their lips together for a long moment before letting him go. There was comfort in his easy understanding.

"Alex killed Antoine. She stabbed him through the heart and I wasn't quick enough to stop her. She felt absolutely nothing when she did it – no pain, no remorse." So many years later, and the pain of that was still fresh, the guilt still biting. "She almost killed Sharyn. It was close. Too close. I was only barely able to get her into deep sleep myself."

There was more, of course. Jim and Alex had destroyed two floors of a hotel in St. Louis before it was all over. There had been mortal casualties in addition to Antoine. He'd only been able to compel her into deep sleep while she'd been preoccupied with trying to slice his head from his shoulders. His hand drifted up, unconsciously touching the spot; there was no scar left behind to tell the tale of it.

The Master of St. Louis had taken him and Sharyn in, restored them to health, and made sure that Alex was banished to Greenland for all eternity. She should have been executed outright, but the Council had been curious about her; they wanted to know how it was that she could kill her own Maker. But whatever vamp powers Jim had drawn upon to stop her had seemingly been irreversible. Until now.

"You see now why it isn't safe for you here, Sandburg." Jim tried again to plead his case, knowing that he had little chance of success. There really was too much of Antoine in this mortal. "She killed her Maker. She'll have no compunctions about killing anyone else close to me."

Blair studied him for a long moment before moving to straddle him, sitting comfortably on Jim's knees. His warm hands gripped Jim's shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on his throat. It was as if he had his own form of compulsion, because Jim couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to.

"Then we'll take steps. You know she's coming, that gives us time to prepare. I know this is pretty presumptuous of me, big guy, but there's a way we can kill two birds with one stone."

Jim felt a shiver of premonition down his spine. "And that is?"

"We can give you more power _and_ give me more protection in the vamp community." Blair took a deep breath but never broke eye contact. "You'll have to make me your Heart."

* * *

_**AN: **__Once I finally got started on this chapter it came together pretty quickly. Don't get used to the small amount of lag time between chapters, though – I'm pretty sure this is an anomaly. LOL!_

_Points to smiles2go, who rightfully guessed that Alex Barnes was the prison escapee. Cause who else could it be, really? Her reward was a cameo by Josef and Mick, our favorite vamps from the TV show Moonlight. I don't know if they'll show up again in this fic, so I hope you enjoy them while you can. ::grins::_

_Thanks for the support from my faithful readers who are sticking with me despite the ridiculous amount of time it's taking me to finish this. Witchwarren, keep that campfire burning!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The Hightower Botanical Gardens wasn't exactly a hot spot on a Wednesday morning, so Blair pretty much had the place to himself. He wandered through displays of native flora, ate yogurt-covered raisins, and wondered how his life had gotten so far out of control so quickly. If Naomi knew what he'd been up to since her visit she'd have him kidnapped and in a deprogramming center before he could blink.

The thing of it was, was that he'd been the one calling the shots and making the decisions. He'd tracked Jim down, offered blood for information, fairly begged to be bitten the second time, and now he was tying himself to the vamp for the rest of his natural life through the Heart ceremony. He stood by that decision; he understood all too well how dangerous this Alex Barnes was, and honestly he couldn't think of a better solution for his own safety and Jim's.

Being turned would never be an option. Alex had killed her own Maker, so becoming a vamp wouldn't give him much protection. Not to mention that she'd probably be showing up soon, and if he was turned now he'd be in no shape for much of anything while his body adjusted to the blood lust. And as much as he was coming to care for Jim, Blair was sure that going vamp wasn't something he ever wanted to do. He didn't want to lose that much of himself, not for anyone.

Huffing out a sigh, he found the nearest bench and sat down. Opposite him was a huge rhododendron bush that was just starting to bud; he wondered what color the flowers would be when they bloomed, and then wondered what he'd be himself once the dust settled.

Jim hid his emotions behind a mask of cool indifference and vamp stillness, but last night Blair had been able to see beneath that. Jim was scared. Not for himself, because that wasn't who he was, but for the people around him. Jim and Antoine had been together for about seventy years – he'd have to ask Peter if it was normal for a vamp to stay with his Maker for such a long period of time – and then to have him killed so violently had to have hurt unbearably. Blair wasn't going to let that happen again.

"You look angry, Blair Sandburg." Sharyn appeared seemingly out of thin air, settling next to him on the bench. He gave himself points for not flinching in surprise.

"Just thinking," he replied. The young-looking vamp was dressed almost normal, compared to her usual attire – black jeans that looked painted on, sheer black button down over a black bra, all of it topped with the long leather coat.

"The Master told you about Barnes." The tone of her voice when she said Alex's name was sharp enough to draw blood. Clearly there was no love lost there.

"Yeah, he told me. He tell you to come find me, too?"

Sharyn grinned. "I'm keeping watch. He's meeting with the others."

Blair nodded. Jim had already told him his plans for the day, which included briefing his personal security team and calling a special meeting of Cascade vamps to discuss both the coming danger and arranging the Heart ceremony for later that evening. He'd lamented the necessity of last-minute preparations, but Blair was in agreement that sooner was better than later.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"All of the Master's vehicles are tagged with tracking devices."

Silence spilled out between them for several long moments before Blair spoke again. "I'm sorry. About Antoine."

Sharyn gave him an assessing look. "You are. How curious. You didn't know him, there's no reason to be sorry."

Blair shrugged. "His loss hurt Jim. And you too, maybe."

"He was…eccentric. But never cruel. Never intentionally hurtful." She leaned back and stretched out her long legs. "Barnes should've died. If I hadn't been incapacitated I would have seen it done."

"She must be strong, to have taken all three of you on and almost won."

"If not for the generosity of the Master of St. Louis we might both have died along with Antoine." Sharyn watched him closely. "She nearly decapitated the Master."

Blair felt sick. In his mind's eye he could see the blonde vamp that Jim had described, slicing his head from his shoulders. _Dear God_. He didn't understand how she could be so strong so quickly. His vamp knowledge base was growing exponentially but he thought true strength came with age; she shouldn't have been able to cause so much damage to vamps much older than she was, let alone her Maker.

Sharyn nodded, approving of whatever she'd seen in his face. "I don't pretend to understand about Sentinels. The Master has told me some, and I have observed more. You don't seem particularly disturbed to be with him."

"That's because I'm not," he answered honestly. "I want to know more, be a help instead of a hindrance. I have no doubt that Alex is coming here and I don't want to be the one she uses to hurt Jim."

"You have very honorable intentions, Blair Sandburg. I approve of you becoming his Heart."

"Oh. Well, thanks." He shuddered to think what might have become of him if she _didn't_ approve. He had no doubt that Jim's lieutenant knew well enough how to make a mortal disappear. "I don't know much about the ceremony. Any pointers you can give me so I don't completely humiliate myself or Jim?"

He didn't want to admit to searching for information online, which he'd known at the outset wouldn't be very helpful. The vamp community was out and proud, but they still kept their rituals cloaked in secrecy.

Sharyn looked thoughtful, one hand coming up to fiddle with the ring through her lip. "The most difficult part for you, I think, will be the silence. You cannot speak until you are bid to do so."

"Hey! I can be quiet!"

She just looked at him with a cocked eyebrow until he grinned.

"Yeah, okay. I'll work on that."

"You will pledge fealty to the Master and you will be branded with his mark."

Blair nodded, although he had to admit he wasn't much looking forward to the branding portion of the ceremony. "You know, there are many cultures that use scarification to promote cultural awareness. Of course, branding in the United States has had darker connotations – ownership, first and foremost, but also marking people who were outside of society for whatever reason."

"Do you understand the significance of it in regards to this ceremony?" Sharyn asked.

"I think so. I mean, from the vamp perspective it's a symbol of ownership. Kind of like branding cattle, I guess. 'This is mine, leave it alone.' But from the perspective of the Heart? It's a warning that they're under protection, that someone has claimed them and they're now off the market."

Sharyn shook her head. "The branding of the Heart is a symbol of inclusion, not exclusion. It binds you to the Master, but it also binds him to you."

"An exchange of rings would be less painful," Blair muttered, but he thought he understood what the vamp was saying.

"Rings can be removed," she pointed out.

"Yeah, no, I see what you're saying. I get it." And he did, he really did, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to having hot metal pressed into his skin. "You wanna walk around?"

Sharyn got to her feet, all vampire grace and fluid movement. They walked around the gardens in silence for a while, Blair letting the scent of earth and growing things soothe his nerves. He appreciated the clarification about the branding, it gave him a better perspective to approach it from. Not for the first time he wished that Burton had been more thorough in his Sentinel research; surely there was some sort of ceremony for Sentinels and Guides as well and he wished he knew what it was. He liked the idea of Jim being bound to him, of them being bound together; the anticipation of having somewhere he absolutely belonged was heady.

"May I ask a question?" Sharyn asked after a long while.

"Shoot."

"Why do you think the Master was unable to kill Barnes? I don't believe it was physical weakness."

"That's a good question," Blair said. He'd been thinking about it himself since hearing Jim's own concern over why she was still alive. "I think it's a Sentinel thing. From the research I've done, I can tell you that Sentinels are very territorial; they have clearly defined boundaries, just like vamps do. In ancient times they were probably much more cognizant of these boundaries and careful to stay out of the territory of other Sentinels. I think that's part of the reason Jim reacted so badly to her when they first met."

"I remember. He looked almost ill."

"See, now, but that's a good thing. An early warning system. We'll know when Alex crosses into Jim's territory."

Sharyn nodded solemnly, hands in the pockets of her coat. "That's good to know. But will he be able to kill her this time?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Sentinels have always been a rare commodity. Maybe there's some kind of genetic directive that keeps them from killing others of their kind. He still might not be able to do it."

"That's fine. I prefer to have that honor myself."

Blair looked over at her and swallowed whatever else he might have said. The look on Sharyn's face was just this side of terrifying, and he hoped that she never, ever turned that anger and deadly intent on him.

*o*o*o*

Jim came for Blair at his hotel shortly after dark. He'd tried to eat though he didn't have much of an appetite, and in the end had only gotten down a salad and some dinner rolls. He'd had all day to think about the ceremony, to make sure he was doing the right thing, and while he was incredibly nervous he was still absolutely certain that he was making the right decision.

He opened the door for Jim and pulled him inside, immediately lifting his face for a kiss; he wasn't disappointed. The vamp cupped his face and made a brief but thorough exploration of his mouth.

"So, I gotta ask," he said, one hand on Jim's chest. "There's nothing kinky in the ceremony, is there? Cause I'm not really into public sex or anything like that."

Jim's hands moved over his shoulders and down his arms, briefly wrapping around his wrists before he let him go. "Nothing kinky."

"And nothing unhygienic, right? Cause I'm not drinking blood."

"You can always change your mind, Sandburg." His face gave nothing away, but his eyes twinkled in amusement.

Blair grinned. "I just hate walking into these things blind, you know? Hey, am I dressed okay? Should I wear something more formal?"

He'd put on his best pair of dress khakis and a sweater in a shade of indigo that he knew flattered him. There'd been some indecision on what to do with his hair, but he decided to leave it loose.

"You look fine." Jim lifted one hand and ran it over Blair's head, fingers tangling in the curls. "Better than fine."

"Smooth talker," Blair joked. He tried to cover his nervousness, turning and grabbing his coat, but Jim stopped him.

"There's nothing to fear from the ceremony." Jim dropped his forehead against Blair's. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know that, big guy."

They held that pose another minute, and then Jim was all business. "Okay, let's get going. Sharyn's waiting in the Jeep."

Blair locked up his room and followed the vamp out to the hall, admiring the view of his ass in tailored black pants. There was no kissing in the elevator this time, which was a disappointment as much as it was a sign that tonight was a serious matter and not to be taken lightly.

"Blair Sandburg," Sharyn said in greeting when they reached the Jeep.

"Sharyn," he responded in kind, tilting his head.

He tried to get an idea of where they were going, but Jim drove so fast that it made Blair nauseous; it's not like he was that familiar with the city in any case. He had to practically bite his tongue to keep from asking questions, and he knew Jim could probably tell how agitated he was.

"We're here."

The trip had taken less than fifteen minutes. Blair climbed out of the Jeep and looked around, trying to get his bearings. Jim had parked in the lot of a theater that, from the outside anyway, looked like it should be condemned; boarded windows, sagging marquee.

"This is it?" he asked dubiously.

"You were expecting something a bit more opulent?" Jim asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Well, maybe something a bit less inclined to collapse on our heads," he replied. "Are we actually going inside?"

Sharyn grinned at him. "You worry too much."

"Maybe you aren't worrying enough," he countered.

"Fair enough." She headed for the door, which looked sealed up tight but opened easily and silently when she was still a few feet away. The other vamps were clearly already inside.

"Last chance to back out, Sandburg." Jim studied him carefully, and Blair was certain he was using all of his senses to get a read on him. It felt oddly intimate.

"I appreciate the offer, but I stand by the plan. It's a good idea, and I'd really just like to get it over with if you don't mind." Without waiting for a response, Blair followed Sharyn inside the theater.

The lobby wasn't in much better shape than the exterior. The carpet, once presumably a deep royal blue, was faded and threadbare. The glass counter at the concession stand was cracked and broken, the fancy wallpaper hanging down in strips. The electric lights were off but candelabras were set up around the perimeter, the candles casting flickering shadows on the walls.

There were two vamps inside with Sharyn, both of them men dressed in old-fashioned velvet suits with ruffled shirts which in no way detracted from their muscular builds. They looked enough alike to be brothers, and they studied at him with open curiosity.

"Blair Sandburg. I present Joseph and Andrew Cohn. They are enforcers for the Master."

They nodded at him simultaneously, and Blair nodded back. They certainly looked like enforcers, with their thick arms and dour expressions. Jim was suddenly at his back, one hand on his shoulder.

"Fate and Fury. Good of you to come."

The brothers – or perhaps lookalike cousins? – nodded again. "Everything is in readiness," the one on the left said.

Jim's lips brushed Blair's ear. "Sharyn will take you to get ready. I'll see you shortly."

Before Blair could say anything Jim and the vamp brothers disappeared through the door the he guessed led to the main theater. Sharyn headed through a door marked _Lounge_, indicating that he should follow. He did so, not expecting much, but he was surprised to see that the large room was in immaculate condition. The carpet was a plush cream, the walls papered with gray and silver stripes. In the center of the room was an overstuffed armchair and ottoman in a deep shade of blue that reminded Blair of Jim's office at Club Doom.

A female vamp stood beside the chair, holding a round wooden bowl. She had long black hair that hung to her waist and wore a high-necked black dress that had an Asian design.

"Clarinda will prepare you for the ceremony," Sharyn said. She took up a post by the door, arms crossed.

"So, uh…I'll just sit in the chair?"

The other vamp nodded, no expression on her face. Blair sat down, his feet up on the ottoman, and waited nervously for whatever came next. He startled when something came near his face, but it was only a wet cloth. Preparation seemed to consist of having his face and neck ritually washed with lavender-scented water that was just slightly warmer than room temperature. It was unexpectedly relaxing and he soon found himself drifting just a little, the lavender soothing his jangled nerves.

It was over all too soon, and Clarinda left while the warmth cooled on his neck. Blair blinked in the candlelight, momentarily disoriented, and saw that Sharyn was offering him a hand up out of the chair.

"How are you feeling, Blair Sandburg?"

"Really good, actually."

"Are you ready?"

Blair took a moment to take stock of himself and found, to his surprise, that his nervousness had fled. He was more certain than ever that doing this was the right decision. Jim was his Sentinel, and he'd do whatever he had to do to protect him, even subject himself to bodily mutilation; nothing was going to scare him away.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"We'll go to the main stage and you will take your seat there. The Master will say the words of the ritual, you will respond as requested, and the Sealing will take place."

"Gotcha." Blair waited for Sharyn to lead the way, but she paused and took off her long leather coat, which she draped over the chair. He tried not to goggle at her emerald green flapper dress, dripping with beads and fringe; it was clearly an original from the period and she looked amazing in it, even with the spiky hair and the lip ring.

"That's…huh. Quite the dress."

Sharyn smiled and pulled a matching beaded head piece from her jacket, which she quickly set into place. Then she hooked her arm around Blair's and they headed back to the lobby, and from there to the theater proper. The theater, like the lounge, was in pristine condition. The large chandelier had been converted to hold candles, and there were candles in all the wall sconces; everything in the room seemed to glow.

Blair tried to look everywhere at once as they made their way down the center aisle. Half the seats were full of vamps dressed in their finest attire, and it was like a costume museum that covered centuries. It was disconcerting to have so many eyes on him, and he felt his nerves tingling to awareness again until he caught sight of Jim up on the stage.

The Master of the City of Cascade stood beside a high-backed wooden chair with a padded seat of red velvet. To the right was a small brass brazier glowing with coals. He caught his breath at the sight of that, knowing it was meant for him, but then Jim caught his gaze and held it as he made his way up the steps. His tailored black pants were topped off with black, velvet-trimmed morning coat and a double-breasted paisley vest in a deep shade of blue over a crisp white shirt that had the top two buttons undone; he wore no tie. He looked amazing.

Sharyn released her hold on his arm and dropped a curtsey. "I present Blair Sandburg, Master."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Jim replied. He waited until she was halfway down the stairs to claim her seat in the front row before grabbing hold of Blair's hand and formally escorting him to the chair. He favored Blair with a warm smile before turning to address the assembled vamps.

"The mortal Blair Sandburg has been chosen to honor me by becoming my Heart, here before members of our community. We now complete the ancient ceremony of Sealing so that all may know our allegiance to one another."

Blair tried to commit the words to memory, knowing what a rare opportunity this was. The only mortals who would ever know what happened during a Heart ceremony were those that became branded, and they weren't allowed to share that information with anyone. Jim turned back towards him, holding his gaze.

"Today I recognize you, my Heart. You will become part of me, as I shall become part of you. You are my strength, my comfort. Your blood gives me power."

There was an underlying buzz to the words that Jim was saying; Blair could almost feel it on his skin, making the fine hairs on his arms stand up. All at once he realized that there was a whole other layer to this ceremony, that the words doubled for another, equally ancient rite long since lost to time; a bonding between Sentinel and Guide.

"I am your strength, your protection. You will offer your blood to no other vampire from this day hence. Will you be thusly joined, of your own free will?"

It took Blair a moment to find his voice, overwhelmed by the electric feeling in the air around them and the power the words seemed to be having over him. "I do."

Jim nodded approvingly and reached over to pull the brand from the fire. Blair got his first good look at the shaped metal, which glowed red, and couldn't help but feel a little thrill as he recognized the design. It was a Mayan glyph, square, with a line down the center. On either side of the line were open circles to represent eyes, and below them one for a mouth. One half of the square was filled in and the other was empty. It meant _Spirit Companion_ and was tied to the Sentinel mythology of that culture. Even though he knew the pain he would suffer, he had a sudden, overwhelming yearning to have it burned into his skin.

"You will bear my mark from now until the end of your days, a symbol of our bond that cannot be broken by time or challenge. Will you accept the Sealing?"

"I will," Blair replied breathlessly. Jim leaned in, his mouth near Blair's ear and his words for him alone.

"Allow me to use compulsion," he whispered. "You won't feel the pain."

Blair shook his head. "I _need_ to feel it."

There wasn't time to explain it, not that he was certain he even could. He wasn't someone that got off on pain, or anything like that, but he needed to be present in the moment. This was important, would change his life forever, and he didn't want to miss a second of it. The vamp didn't beleaguer the point.

"So it shall be. I give to you my promise, my protection, my Seal."

Jim used one hand to carefully tilt Blair's head to the side, exposing his neck, and swept his curls aside with a lingering touch of fingertips. Blair gripped the arms of the chair hard, and then the brand was pressed into his flesh. He clenched his jaw against the bright, sharp pain of it, and closed his eyes tightly against the tears that automatically sprang up in his eyes. He could hear his skin sizzle, which made his stomach lurch, but something else was happening and he dimly wondered if Jim could feel it too.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and for a moment he swore he could smell the verdant, earthy scents of the jungle; could almost hear the calls of exotic birds and chattering monkeys. It was as if he'd suddenly been transported back to Peru during his childhood visit there, and for a moment he could hear the words of the old shaman as clear as a bell. _You have power, young one. You shall walk the dual path of Shaman and Guide_. Something clicked into place at the moment, something that transcended the pain until it became a white-hot bloom of almost-pleasure that made him gasp.

"Mine," Jim growled, removing the brand.

"Yours," Blair agreed. He was snapped out of the moment by applause as the vamps in the audience expressed their approval of the ceremony. He opened his eyes and loosened his hands. The brand on his neck throbbed painfully.

"The mortal Blair Sandburg has been Sealed. He shall henceforth be recognized as the Heart of James Ellison, Master of the City of Cascade. All vampires who have sworn their allegiance to me shall revere him as is his due, shall see him safe at all times, and shall respect the bond created here today."

Jim dropped the brand back in the brazier and pulled Blair to his feet. Instinctively, Blair offered up his undamaged wrist; the Heart gave strength to the Master through blood, and something told him the ceremony wouldn't really be complete without it. Jim pressed a soft kiss to the skin there before extending his fangs and biting down. Blair's back bowed and if the vamp hadn't been holding him up he would've fallen; his whole body was so sensitized that it was almost enough to push him to climax right there in front of everyone.

Luckily the taking of blood was more symbolic than necessary, and Jim cut it short. He had a glazed look in his eyes that told Blair he was feeling that extra surge of power too. They kissed, and he clutched Jim's shirt tightly in an effort to stay upright and not embarrass himself; the idea was almost moot when he couldn't help grinding himself against the vamp, left hard and unsated by the brief feeding. Jim put some space between them, just enough, and when he licked across the brand with the flat of his tongue the pain there immediately lessened to a much more tolerable level.

"Are we done?" Blair whispered into Jim's shoulder.

"Almost. Can you walk? We have to get to the theater doors."

"I'm good." Surprisingly enough that wasn't a lie. Jim held his hand as they descended the stage and made their way up the center aisle to the doors. There they waited while every vamp in attendance congratulated the Master and welcomed Blair to the community, with varying degrees of sincerity. It was a bit overwhelming, and he took comfort in the fact that not every face was unfamiliar.

"Welcome to the family, Blair Sandburg," Sharyn said as she came through with the first wave. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," he replied, still feeling dazed.

The second wave of well-wishers included Tomás, who wore a heavily embroidered suit with wide shoulders that reminded Blair a little of a matador's costume.

"You work fast, _mi amigo_," he said, looking just a bit peevish. "But _b__ienvenidos a la comunidad_."

"_Gracias_," Blair replied.

There was one last wave of vamps, and by that time he was starting to flag. The events of the day, and the emotions involved, had drained him. But he was attuned enough to Jim to recognize when he tensed up. He was shaking hands with the very last vamp to leave the theater, a much older man in a regular off-the-rack tuxedo.

"Master Ellison. I bring congratulations from the Regent of Washington, and an invitation to visit him at his residence at your earliest convenience."

"Please tell the Regent that I accept his generous invitation and will call to make arrangements first thing in the morning."

"See that you do." The vamp turned to Blair. "The Regent bids you welcome and hopes that you will be well looked after in your new role."

"Uh…thanks?"

When he left they were finally alone, and Blair sagged against Jim.

"How you holding up, Sandburg?" There was unmistakable fondness in his tone. "No buyer's remorse?"

Blair snaked an arm around Jim's waist. "Not yet. I wouldn't mind crawling into the nearest available bed, though."

"Then we should go," Jim replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You can sleep a little before the next part of the ceremony."

Blair groaned. "There's more?"

"Of course. We must now bond on a more…intimate level." Jim waggled his eyebrows and Blair huffed out a laugh.

"Now that's something I can get behind!"

They walked out of the theater, arms around each other, where Sharyn waited to take them home.

* * *

_**AN: **__This chapter was half written for a while, and then the rest of it decided to come when I should've been in bed getting my beauty rest before another work week started. But thanks to a generous supply of Mtn. Dew I think I'll be okay. LOL! Hope you enjoyed the ceremony. Next up: a visit with the Regent of Washington and possibly some between-the-sheets action as well. Stay tuned!_


End file.
